In honor of a day spent with Carol, the Texan expat returned for one short weekend in the middle of a vast sea of Carollessness, here are ten of my favorite Carol-induced travel memories, in no particular order:

1. Freezing to death in Central Park, despite the furry deerstalker hats.

2. Becoming addicted to Webkinz in Huntsville, and then spending large chunks of the day glued to separate computers.

3. Entering our hotel room at the Paramount in NYC and learning that our room’s magnificently large art canvas headboard was blank.

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When I was a little girl, about three or four years old, I was the perfect picture of girliness. My blonde hair was wispy and hung in delicate curls; I wore pink and ruffles; I loved to curtsey and pretend I was a ballet dancer. But my favorite toy was not a doll or a tea set or a teddy bear (although I did have all of those, and I loved them dearly).

My favorite toy was a big, yellow, metal Tonka dump truck.

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