The Journey Through Time Makes Me Want to Barf – Part II

…the saga continues…

After getting my “sort of” ticket, we continued on our way to John Day.

About an hour and a half later, we were forced to stop because the Pineapple was awake and letting us know that starving an infant is still a crime in most states. So given that I get SUPER carsick (hence the title), DH hopped in the back seat to feed her and I jumped out to walk the dog (Giles – he’s a shitzu-pomeranian…aka a shiteranian…or a shitpom – you pick). Giles was struggling a wee bit over going “potty #2,” prompting a dialog between DH and I wherein we discussed the nutritional value of hard dog food and whether or not he’s getting enough water. I then proceeded to tease DH, telling him that something seemed to be “stuck” and that he would need to come and take care of it for Giles. It is a testament to our relationship that DH did not assume I was joking and rather moaned and groaned that he didn’t want to do that…again. (Sorry – need a break for just a second…can’t type while I’m clutching my sides and laughing.)

As I hopped back into the car, I assured DH that all was well aside from the fact that he’d married a terrible woman who picks on him too often and we all moseyed down the road.

A bit later, DH decided he needed to go potty (just #1 though) so we found a quaint little port-a-potty set up right next to the river and stopped there. Pineapple was napping peacefully so I stayed in the car gazing out at the rushing water and enjoying the scenery while DH jumped out to visit the restroom. He returned moments later and when he got in the car, I almost threw up. He smelled like the interior of the port-a-potty…not the inside, as in the shell, I mean the big blue hole. He smelled so bad I made him check his shoes. His CLOTHES smelled like it. The odor was clinging to him – just as I would imagine the bog of eternal stench would cling to Ludo fur (if you have no idea what I’m referencing, I suggest you Netflix The Labyrinth…STAT! 80’s David Bowie in tights = yummy).

He was frantic. DH is nothing if not clean (maybe a bit prissy about it even – I swear he takes the longest showers) and it was seriously freaking him out. Apparently, while in the restroom, he’d worn his shirt over his nose – bandit style – to avoid inhaling the foul odor. So my next logical question was, “then why the hell didn’t you just get out of there and pee outside?! You have that option! Why didn’t you take advantage of it instead of opting to pollute the family car with your malodorous visit to the stink pot?!”

DH’s response?…”I didn’t even think about it. I was so worried about not smelling the stinky smell, peeing and getting out of there.” Men.

After the port-a-potty from hell, we continued on and finally made it into John Day – present and accounted for – arriving at his parent’s house to find it vacant. So naturally, we made ourselves at home and started eating their food. We also began the baby-proofing process which basically consists of plopping Pineapple on the floor and letting her make her way around the room to see what she attempts to either A) put in her mouth, B) climb on, or C) insert something (body part/item found on floor) into. About an hour and a half later, we’d re-vacuumed their floors and put chairs and other objects in front of the wall sockets.

Pineapple was happily eating her snack when grandma came through the door with bags and bags of groceries…which, you may not believe, made me VERY upset. You see, visiting the grocery store in John Day is always one of the highlights of my trip…but that is another post.

Until tomorrow!

TO BE CONTINUED

The Journey Through Time Makes Me Want to Barf – Part I

This weekend, we made the 5 hour drive east from PDX to visit DH’s family (my family too, since we’re hitched and all) in John Day, OR. And let me tell you something…that drive is long. And twisty. And curvy. And I get carsick almost every time.

However, it is well worth it because we always have a good time. It also makes for good blog fodder, so this is going to be a multi-part post. I can’t cram it all into one post without losing some of the flavor. And I think you deserve flavor. I know Pineapple does – and since someday she needs to have a clear picture of her early childhood to share in her support group, my recounting of this trip will get some extra attention.

So to begin….

We all crawled out of our cozy bed at 5:00AM on Friday when Pineapple woke up complaining about her teeth hurting, cursing us, and demanding a bottle (baa-buu in Pineapplease). We threw some clothes on, left Pineapple in her footie jammies, and jumped in the pre-loaded car to head out of town. I drove for the first couple of hours because it was dark and I didn’t want to barf during the winding parts…and I got a ticket. Well, sort of.

I was driving down the road in the early sun and saw the cop coming toward me – a little too late. So, when he made a u-turn and started to follow me, DH told me I was being pulled over. We speculated over where a good place to move to the shoulder of the road might be while I denied that it was happening, repeating “he may not even be after us – I should just keep going until he gets right up on us.” And DH educated me about being pulled over, explaining that if I didn’t get onto the shoulder of the road and stop the car, the cop might think I was ‘making a run for it.’ Which I declared obsurd but pulled over anyway.

When the nice officer came to the window, he asked if I knew why I was being pulled over. To which I responded – eyebrows raised, sheepish grin, high-voiced – “because I was speeding?”

“Do you know how fast you were going?” the Sherriff asked.

“About 60 – maybe 65?” I said – again with the high voice.

“Actually, I clocked you at 73” he informs me and goes on to ask “do you know the speed limit here?”

“60?” I ask – hoping that I’m close.

“Actually it’s 55 ma’am” he says – ma’aming me.

Then after accepting my drivers license and registration – I have new car insurance and don’t have the card yet and having not had a ticket in, oh, ever, I didn’t bother to bring the temporary – he makes his way back to his car to type on his computer and make sure I’m not a psychopath dressed in a sweatsuit driving a white Subaru Outback loaded to the brim with baby supplies and a protesting child. I’m not – thankfully – so it doesn’t take him long to check my background. While he was gone, I wondered to DH if maybe the nice officer would give me a warning. But DH informed me that they don’t do that anymore because everyone needs money. So it was with a heavy heart that I see him returning to the window with a yellow slip of paper and my information.

Leaning in the window, he says “now this isn’t as bad as it looks ma’am – I gave you a ticket for not having your insurance but that’s it. And all you need to do is contact that phone number on the back and fax them in a copy of your temporary card and then it is customary for them to drop the charges.”

I smile and say “thank you so very much – I promise to fax it in as soon as possible!”

He smiles, taps his hat, and then DH feels the need to contribute to the conversation: “That is incredible. I just got through telling her that the police don’t give warnings anymore – they all just ticket you. Wow.”

The nice Sherriff and I both look at DH. I have no idea what the Sherriff was thinking but I know that I was thinking: “WHAT THE HELL?! Are you kidding me right now?! Why do I let this man out of the house? Do they make DH sized muzzles? Where could I get one? I wonder if they have any fashionable ones?…Maybe something in blue. He looks nice in blue…I do not own a single blue sweater. I should buy one. I like blue. And it….Oh yeah – police officer and DH just offended him…WHAT THE HELL?!” But the nice Sherriff just tipped his hat again, smiled and made his way back to his car.

As I merged back onto the highway, I looked over at DH, who was staring at me, and asked “why didn’t you just say ‘cops suck’? It would have been more to the point.”

DH: “I was just trying to let him know that I thought it was really nice.”

Me: “Then why didn’t you say ‘that was really nice’ instead of something that sounded very much like ‘cops suck’?”

DH: “I dunno. You’re driving everywhere from now on. If I’d been driving, we would have had 3 tickets or he would have cuffed me or something.”

Me: “You are so odd. I’m buying you a muzzle. A blue one – to bring out your eyes.”

TO BE CONTINUED…