Maggie and Laura left Cleveland at the crack of dawn. Armed with two hefty thermoses of killer coffee and an unwavering love of baking, the two women sailed forth. The giddy anticipation of what was to come, namely cooking classes hosted by King Arthur Flour in Vermont, lasted well past Akron. Two important things happened in Pittsburgh; they found a perfect bakery that specialized in apple strudels that were light on the pectin, and the first signs of conversational fissures emerged. Each assumed that what the other really meant when she described herself as “undecided” was actually closer to her own viewpoint. Maggie was leaning left, whereas Laura was firmly to the right. That was a problem, since that’s all the radio pundits talked about. Inevitably Maggie or Laura couldn’t resist the cat bait of easy solutions and “isn’t it obvious?” come backs. Somewhere around the Capital City area, they stopped for dinner and mutually decided to only listen to music. That strategy lasted a good thirty miles, when the sinking realization hit Maggie that Laura’s taste in music veered to country and western. Sometimes, you can know too much about a friend.