6 1/2 hours.  In the car.  With my mother.  

Let me just give you a brief glimpse into the depressing world that is my mother's brain by retelling one of the family stories she shared during our little outing today:

J was an amazing woman.  One time, our little cocker spaniel was having puppies, and she was having trouble, and I panicked, so I called J because I didn't know what to do.  "I'll be over in a minute," she said.  And she came over, and put on an apron, and went outside and delivered the puppies.  "We have to keep them warm," she said.  So she put them in the oven on low with the door open to try to save them, but they all died anyway.

(Big Sis and I look at one another in horror. Then I make the mistake of asking, "J was whose mother?")

A was J's daughter, and she was married to H before she died of the melanoma.  

(Big Sis makes the mistake of asking, "Was A an only child?")

No J had another daughter...N.  You remember N.  We ran into her at the movie theater once.  She was the exact opposite of A, and she married a man who blew his head off out in J's pasture.

(Big Sis and I again exchange disturbed look.)

He had been in the war, and he wasn't quite right when he came back, and one day he told her that he was going for a drive, and he drove out to J's pasture and shot himself.  It was so sad. She went on to become a city secretary...(wait for it)...but I bet she's dead now, too. *Sigh.*

Mom.  Starts out eulogizing a woman she admires... degenerates to dead puppies, suicidal veterans, and dead widows. 

And she wonders why I haven't brought the WM over to meet her yet?