A nice little jaunt on a wintery day

It was 14 degrees yesterday morning when we hit the road to Jefferson City.  I had a library book on the Nook, so I read that aloud, most of the way down and back:  John Sandford's "Buried Prey".  We think we already know who the villain is... the little girls' dad.  I only got as far as page 137 in a 400-page book, so looks like we'll each have to finish this one on our own, unless we're going to be doing another road trip within the next two weeks.  We came home through Versailles because it isn't too far out of the way, and Cliff always likes to check in with his Aunt Gertrude.  

Cliff admired the beauty of this statue in front of the capitol; I think it's some Greek goddess.  I had to look up the difference between "capital" and "capitol".  The latter refers to the building in which a legislative assembly meets... I think.  I'm sure I learned this in school, but that was a long time ago.  Will I remember which is which tomorrow, or next week?  I doubt it.  

There's a picture of every governor my state has ever had:  I was surprised to learn that both Meriwether Lewis and William Clark were governors of Missouri, although it was a territory at the time, rather than a state.  

This sign is directly in front of the capitol. 

As we were heading to our car to eat lunch I had packed, we noticed that every car parked along the curb had an envelope telling them they were in violation of a parking ordinance.

Every.  Single.  Car.


What?  They aren't worried that their cars will be towed?  I kept wondering how much the fine was; so, to shut me up, Cliff took one of the envelopes off a car and checked:  Five bucks.  
His theory is that these people work inside the capitol, and they figure $5 is a cheap price to pay for parking so close to work when the temperature is below freezing.  
So, the thing about cars being towed is an idle threat? 

 This is a single mastodon tooth found right in my very own county!

J. C. Penny

Sacajawea

I'm not sure why she was in the hall of busts of famous Missourians, since she wasn't from Missouri.  Cliff thinks it's strange that somebody went to all that work doing a bust of somebody and then left the edges below the neck all raggedy.  I figure that's why they call it a "bust":  it looks like somebody just busted the head off the body.  OK, I jest.  I'd better stop with this silly ramble before I make a complete fool of myself.  
(Did I hear somebody say, "Too late"?)