On our way home we stopped by a different Cracker Barrel to use the washroom.

Natalie (Daytona Beach, FL to Chicago): No matter where you go Cracker Barrel always smells the same.

On a side note: While living in Boston I got crap from a lot of people for not calling a washroom a bathroom. 'Bathroom' said in a Boston accent sounds horrible, and said with a Chicago accent sounds even worse, but at least I don't get corrected here.

Anyway...Cracker Barrel. It would be an understatement to say that I love this place. Homemade Fudge? Check. Sweet Old Lady Behind Counter? Check. Plaster snail lawn ornaments that doubles as a hiding place for a key? Check. I could stay there for hours.

So I picked up some candy sticks and a Magic Loop Toy for Arnie, malt balls for myself, and Mad Libs for the car ride home. Oh, and I didn't forget the shiny silver pen with an angel on top.

Later I told Arnie about my new love.

Arnie: I feel like if you grew up in a town with a Cracker Barrel you'd feel differently.