Well, I survived the long weekend at Auntie's house in the hills. The leaves were beautiful. My brother was incredibly politically incorrect. ("All those retired Jews in Florida are really socialists. Seriously." Heh? We finally told him to shut up while he was ahead.) Auntie and her husand were gracious hosts and have a kazillion channels on the TV. Auntie's son and husband took my meek, little suburban son out and taught him what to do (and not do) with a gun. Wish I had pictures of The Boy shooting a BB gun. He had HUGE soundproof earmuffs on. LOL!
Anyway, we arrived near dusk on Wednesday night, with me feeling like Charles Lindberg. I swear, I was driving down the highway with cruise control on, thinking, "That's weird. I feel like I'm still driving. Oh wait. I am." Both kids refused to go in the house, and The Girl started screaming, "I want to go HOOOOOOME!" The Boy was just afraid of the dogs. Oy vey. We finally got them indoors, and The Boy started crying about the antiques hung on the wall of our room. (Remember? The Boy has a phobia about old things?) The Girl continued asking to go home, and we finally collapsed in bed without anyone getting eaten by dogs.
(I kept insisting that if the dog wanted to eat anyone, it would be The Boy's little cousin who is much smaller and meatier than he is. I think it finally worked. By the end of the weekend, he was sharing the recliner with the dog.)
Thursday, things went better. We all went on a pontoon boat ride to see the leaves, and only my brother complained about my bad driving on the mountain roads. There are no curvy roads OR hills where I live -- give me a break! The Boy got used to the antiques, and spent a couple of hours alternatively running up and down the hill and dancing in his room with his little cousin. The girl spent as much time as she could get away with in the car, apparently hoping to go home.
My brother left for home early Friday, so the rest of us just hung out until evening, when we left for the Chinese buffet. Halfway down the driveway, I stopped to dry out my car seat that someone poured water in. At the bottom of the driveway, I stopped to tend to a bloody nose, and then the fuel light went on. The Girl wept through dinner, and didn't eat, and we couldn't figure out why. After a stop at Wal-Mart to get granola bars and ammo, we visited four gas stations, looking for gas. (Do I love our GPS? Yes, I do! "Find me gas." "Yes, mistress!") I did find some, and we were headed home, when I thought, "Hey, why not call The Husband?" I had no sooner gotten him on the phone, when The Girl started barfing. And I do mean serious barfing. I hung up the phone, cleaned up the mess in a pelting rain storm, and headed back to Auntie's. The Boy's little voice in the back seat piped up, "Are we having bad luck?" Um. Yeah. Good call.
Saturday was pretty quiet, if you don't count Auntie's husband shooting a Kalishnakof at soda cans. Too much fun!
We left for home Sunday morning. Can you believe I loaded all those suitcases, put them in the hall, and they just STAYED THERE? Oh wait. It's The Husband's job to load the car. ;) I found a lot of those little husband tasks on the trip. Like, apparently, he's in charge of checking the gas gague.
Anyway, all went well until we got within 20 miles of home. Let's just say that it is possible for a boy to barf and pee along the side of the highway at the same time. Meanwhile, The Girl started screaming, "I have to go to the bathroom!" Oy vey. A stop at Wendy's, a change of clothes, and a small lemonade later, and we were on our way.
We're home now, and so grateful that we're having a holiday to celebrate. Yayyyy!!!
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