…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.
TO BE CONTINUED