Don't We Ever Stay Home?

About a week ago I was trying to adjust to being home after three weeks in Sacramento, preparing for and welcoming my new grandson, Sam. As always, when I come home from visiting one of the kids, I’m a little sad and sometimes teary, missing them. My husband—you remember the Center of the Universe—caught me in such a moment, and tried to fix the problem, as men so often do. (Remember the whole “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus” phenomenon?) He gave me a big hug, and said, “Hey, you had a great visit with them, and now it’s time for just you and me alone for a while.” I looked up at him and said, “How do you know that’s not what’s bothering me?” Fortunately, we both laughed.


So the big lug and I were about to get into our car to head off for a few relaxing days at the Lake of the Ozarks. You may have noticed that we’ve been on a marathon of trips to Boston, Boston, Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh and Sacramento since the end of March, and REALLY needed some simple ‘down time’. We went off to use the lovely and comfy condo of our friends who were in Florida at the time. I hope to God they don’t find out. No—just kidding—they gave us the keys, and encouraged us to take advantage of it, so who are we to disappoint such generous friends? And ‘the Lake’, as we St. Louisans like to call it, is only a couple of hours’ drive away, so it makes for a pleasant trip.

CoTU is looking at the driver’s door on our dark blue Forester, and says, “Why does our car get so many more dings and dents than anybody else’s?”

I said, “It doesn’t. You just look at it more carefully than you look at other cars. It’s like you never see yourself the way other people see you. Most of us are more critical of ourselves than others would be of us. We worry about all our little flaws too much.”

“I don’t have character flaws,” he deadpanned. Or maybe he was serious. It’s hard to know sometimes.

Here’s what we prepared to take with us. Then there's what the car looked like when we took off for the Lake. We were only going for 4-5 days. I think we could have spent three months in Europe with the same amount of luggage. Of course, I’ll never know because we will never go to Europe, but I’m just saying… We packed simply, but between taking enough stuff to read for days on end, and enough projects to do some writing on, plus some food so we don’t have to leave the condo and eat out three meals a day, it adds up.

CoTU ready to load it all up.  Trunk jam-packed!  Two coolers and bag o'food.
 

Putting this stuff in the car is no big deal, but then when we get to the Lake, and it’s 100 degrees out, and the humidity is 98%, and we have to climb up a flight and a half of stairs to get to this little paradise, we realize that we should have packed lighter. Oh well, lessons learned. Maybe next time we’ll share the same tube of toothpaste.

On the Road Again!

So I love you all, but I want to let you know that I'm on the road, en route to seeing my son get his Master's degree! (Shout out to Rob! Ya-hoo!) Can't give you much of a post, but I can tell you this:

1. We stopped at a rest stop on I-70 today (heading from St. Louis to Pittsburgh) and saw that the 'v' was missing from the Vending Machines sign.

My hub, the Center of the Universe pointed it out, and wondered if they were the machines set up by President Obama's fictitious death panels. You know, like you put in an old person and get a big old wad of soylent green? You know, the sign said "Ending Machines".

2. I forgot what the second thing was.

More soon-- really!

The Other Woman

Samantha is her name. A few months ago I would have worried about one of the kids reading this, but they know all about her now. It hurts, but this is my reality. Samantha is my husband's new love, his dreamboat, his ideal. Samantha is the voice of the GPS.

For all these years I’ve been the navigator on our trips, near and far, with my Trip-Tiks, maps, and Post-it notes as tools. We’ve had fun, and have never gotten so lost that we couldn’t get unlost.

You know the saying, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Well, apply it here. As far as I can tell, we didn’t need Samantha. We did fine without her, and now she is an ‘issue’.

Sometimes the Center of The Universe wants to take Samantha with us even on a short trip. “But we know how to get there,” I’ll protest.

“Let’s just see what she says. We’ll just give her a try,” he says. Of course, once she’s up there on the windshield, she has a mind of her own, and speaks it whenever she pleases.

Even when Carl Kasell is giving the NPR news, or CoTU is theorizing on a particular set of power lines we may be passing. (He’s an electrical engineer, y’know.) But whoa—the world must stop turning on its axis so that we can all hush and hear Robo-Girl announce, “Turn right, 250 feet, Interstate 64. Then, (pregnant pause), take the freeway.”

Well, duh. We can’t exactly turn onto the interstate and NOT take the ‘freeway’, can we?

This has led to some (all-out brawls) minor disagreements between CoTU and me. “Why are we listening to her if we aren’t going to take her advice?”

“It’s just good to get another opinion,” he says. Right, another opinion that he can visualize in stiletto heels and a skin-tight fire-engine red sheath with a plunging neckline, not that I’m bitter. On the other hand, maybe he envisions her as a petite, pixie-like brunette with a heart-shaped face and a gamine haircut. (Are you listening Amy Walter???) (More on that little heart-breaker/home-wrecker another day!)

Sometimes we may choose to ignore the (bitch) voice and take a different route. Samantha will command, “Turn around and go south on Main Street.” We are ignoring her, for an interim stop for gas. “Turn around—nearest opportunity. I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself. You’re going to regret this. TURN AROUND NOW, DAMMIT.” Wow, talk about your control freaks…

Which brings me to another point of contention: the volume. (See previous post regarding men and hearing loss.) We have to keep the volume high so we don’t miss any little tidbit. What this translates into is, every time the voice starts up, it startles me into cardiac arrest. (Forgive the hyperbole, but it’s damn close.) I live for the moment that CoTU decides we can disconnect Samantha. "Wait, don't unplug me-- I'm here to help you-- really! Don't touch th--"

It’s all I can do to take care of the husband I have. I can’t take care of Samantha, too.