Road trips

On Friday morning, P walked in to wake Caroline up for school and she literally leapt out of bed, ran into the kitchen and stood there trembling with excitement and firing off words at a rate that would make the speed of light jealous, while I did my best to match her enthusiasm in spite of the fact that it was 7:00 a.m. and I was slaving over frozen waffles as opposed to lying in bed. The reason for all that excitement was due to two reasons: pajama day at school and a road trip to Bryan/College Station with Gulley and the boys for the weekend.

That was the sixth attempt at a photo and the only one that wasn’t blurry due to ALL THE EXCITEMENT. It was the kind of energy that would make Richard Simmons suggest that maybe you should settle down and I’m talking about the Richard Simmons from the height of the golden age of Sweatin’ to the Oldies.

I picked her up after school and we came straight home because Gulley and the boys were on their way to pick us up. We made one quick stop at a convenience store to ensure we had the proper amount of candy for the trip (You know what excited kids need? MORE SUGAR.) and then we made the rest of the almost three hour drive without stopping. Read that sentence again and let the weight settle on you. We DID NOT STOP for the next three hours. It was a road trip miracle.

However, when Will began asking “How much longer ’til we get there? Two thousand hours?” at fifteen second intervals about twenty minutes into the trip, I banned them from asking any version of “How much longer?” until someone saw the Aggie water tower which would signal that we were about ten minutes away from Honey and Big’s house. I guess the Aggie water tower became like a mirage in the desert because it was astounding how many times they saw it over the course of the next two and a half hours.

We finally arrived at Honey’s and she had a pot of shrimp creole on the stove and some of the best dip I’ve ever tasted waiting for us. In all seriousness, I am sad for all of you right now because I don’t know if you’ve ever had this dip and your life won’t be complete without it. I vow to get the recipe before the week is over and post it because no one should have to live without this kind of goodness in your life and on your crackers or Fritos or what have you.

Nena was also there when we arrived and she’d surprised Honey by making a vegetable casserole to go along with the shrimp creole. Ever since a few assorted cooking incidents, including the time she nearly poisoned her Sunday School class, people in the know are a little frightened by what kind of homemade goodness might come from Nena’s kitchen. I knew all I needed to know when everyone went to serve their plates and no one helped themselves to Nena’s casserole. I think we were all scared because when Gulley asked her specifically what kind of vegetables were in her vegetable casserole, she replied, “Vegetables”.

That’s the sort of vague answer that you just know contains a can of Veg-All somewhere in the mix.

After we all finished dinner, Nena cornered me in the kitchen and said, “Melanie! I want you to taste some of my vegetable casserole while it’s still warm!” And it was at that moment that Gulley, my best friend of twenty years, threw me under the Veg-All bus. She couldn’t even look at me, but I saw her holding in the laughter as she fled the scene. In fact, the whole family fled the scene and just left me there. Alone and defenseless.

I picked up a fork, wondering all the while how I could get out of this situation gracefully, especially since I’m finicky about the texture of my food. Water chestnuts have been known to make me dry heave so you can only imagine my fear of canned mixed unidentifiable vegetables.

Just as I knew my casserole fate was sealed, Caroline yelled out, “Mama! I need you to come help me get in the bathtub!” I was saved by the bath.

The next day I told Nena that her casserole was delicious. In all honesty, I didn’t try the casserole but for all I know it could have been delicious and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

And then she gave me the recipe which did, in fact, contain a can of something she referred to as Stockley’s Mixed Vegetables. So while I can’t give you the recipe for one of the best dips I’ve ever tasted, I am completely prepared to give you the recipe for vegetable casserole.

I apologize.

And on a perfectly delightful note, this was the front of the Sports page in the Bryan/College Station Eagle yesterday morning.

Yes, it was a total surprise that the Aggies beat Tech in Lubbock for the first time since 1993 (I was still a student at the time so that means it was approximately FOREVER AGO) but the fact that the headline said “Surprise!” made me so happy. You know your football team isn’t quite the powerhouse of yore when the local sports page leads with “Surprise!” when you win.

I have more stories from the weekend, but I’ll have to fill you in later because there’s a line of storms headed this way and it’s just a matter of minutes before Caroline senses imminent thunder and needs to get in our bed and spend the rest of the night kicking me in the back.

I’m leaving for Memphis at 4:00 today and between now and then I have a list of about a million things I need to accomplish. Which makes me wonder why I’m sitting here with P watching Lonesome Dove for the 854th time instead of, you know, actually doing something that might prepare me for my departure. I guess the most critical detail would be to actually pack a suitcase instead of just staring into my closet, wondering how much I can fit in one bag, and trying to decide if I’ll need a sweater for Saturday when the high temperature is supposed to be 65 degrees.

My guess is yes since it was 94 degrees here yesterday and 65 is going to feel like the Arctic Circle compared to that, especially since I tend to need a light jacket any time the temperature dips below 75.

I’m looking forward to seeing some sweet friends, but I’ll miss my peeps. Although if yesterday is any indication I think they’ll be fine without me. Caroline walked into the kitchen and saw P eating Fritos out of the bag. She said, “Hey Daddy! Why don’t you get us some bean dip to go with those Fritos and let’s go watch some hunting shows”.

I don’t know that he’s ever been more proud.

Fritos, bean dip, hunting shows.

It’ll be hard to know that kind of fun is going on without me this weekend, but I’ll manage somehow.

And just think how excited they’ll be when I come home with some Elvis memorabilia because, y’all, it’s Memphis.

I feel like since y’all were kind enough to follow our road trip adventures last week that I need to bring the story to a close even though we’ve now been home for two days and I’m currently buried under a pile of unfolded laundry. I’ve always believed that folding is overrated, especially because I live with two people who believe that rummaging through drawers for a certain article of clothing while messing up everything else is a form of high art.

Disclaimer: There will be no pictures from this portion of the road trip saga because the batteries in my camera died. I believe this serves as a metaphor for the last hour of our trip.

On Friday morning, Honey picked up breakfast for us from the only food group we’d neglected in the course of our travels, Shipley’s chocolate-iced donuts and kolaches. I’ve always believed that nothing gets you going in the morning like some fried dough covered in chocolate with a side of sausage encased in a buttery roll. It’s the breakfast of champions, granted probably just champions who win hot dog eating contests for a living but whatever.

Gulley and I weren’t in any hurry to get on the road so we decided to take the kids to a nearby splash pad to burn some energy before we got in the car. Will decided he’d rather go with Honey to visit Nena because Nena styles his hair for him when he visits and he’s a fan of the gelled coiffure. So Gulley and I took Caroline and Jackson to play in the water, which was a great idea until Caroline fell and skinned her knee and the top of her foot.

You would have thought we’d just amputated her leg with a dull butter knife. She was actually fine until she saw the blood and then she went into the vapors. We left the park to pick up Chick-fil-A for lunch (no, we didn’t dress like cows because I have limits as to what I’ll do for free food and I couldn’t find anything to make a cow costume with) while Caroline continued to moan about her injury and the cruelty of life. It was like a monologue from a Lifetime movie and finally ended with me interrupting her to tell the story of the little boy who cried wolf. I’m not sure it was entirely relevant for the situation, but it was the first fable that came to mind since I didn’t recall any about a little girl whose mama leaves her in Bryan, Texas because she is a drama queen.

We got the kids home and settled at the table to eat their lunch. All was well until Honey walked in with Nena and Will. Caroline realized she had a fresh audience for her tale of woe, got up from the table and began to hop over to where they stood while she said in her most pitiful voice, “Honey, I’m not hopping because I want to but because I fell and scraped my knee.”

Did she not learn anything from my recounting the tale of the little boy who cried wolf?

I told her to sit down and eat her nuggets before I started telling her another fable, perhaps one involving children who aren’t fortunate enough to spend part of their summer vacation in Waco, Texas.

After the kids finished eating lunch and got up from the table, Nena leaned over to me and whispered, “Caroline seems to enjoy ill-health.” Gulley mouthed to me across the table, “It takes one to know one.” Nena is herself a fan of any type of illness. In fact, if you ask her she’ll tell you she’s had six surgeries in the past two years even though three of those were root canals.

We thought about leaving after lunch but really wanted to see our friend Tiff and her kids. Our plan was to stay about thirty minutes so we were a little behind schedule when we left three hours later, but it was so worth it even though we were tired and ready to get home.

The drive went smoothly until we reached the halfway point in Bastrop. We stopped for a potty break and the kids all begged to get something to drink. Clearly we were a little off our game because we let each of them get their own 24 ounce bottle of Gatorade. Then, because I am an idiot, I got in the car and made the dumbest declaration of all time, just thinking about it makes me want to bless my own heart.

I turned around, looked them all in the eye, and said, “WE ARE NOT MAKING ANY MORE STOPS. DO NOT DRINK MORE THAN WHAT YOU NEED TO DRINK BECAUSE THERE WILL BE NO MORE POTTY STOPS. I REPEAT, THERE WILL BE NO MORE POTTY STOPS. DRINK ONLY WHAT YOU NEED.”

Genius.

About five minutes later, Gulley and I were deep in conversation in the front seat when we heard some cheering and yelling coming from the backseat. We turned around to see what was going on and, I KID YOU NOT, Caroline and Will are having a Gatorade chugging contest to see who can finish their bottle first.

My first thought was that their ability to drink 24 ounces quickly does not bode well for their college years. My second thought was to wonder if I need to take Caroline to the doctor to get her hearing checked.

Sure enough, we had to stop fifteen minutes from home so those two clowns could go to the bathroom. I think they each went for about four minutes without stopping.

Finally we were about six blocks from my house when Will announced he needed to go again. Gulley and I both said (maybe yelled) “YOU CAN HOLD IT. IT’S JUST SIX BLOCKS.” I pulled up to my house and handed Gulley my house keys so she could take Will to the bathroom while I unloaded the car.

But it was too late.

Will had let himself out and was happily peeing in the yard right outside my house, which considering that we’re in the midst of a drought isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Unless you’re the person in black Suburban who drove by in time to see the whole thing.

The end.

We were sitting around the breakfast table yesterday morning when I heard Will call to Gulley, “Mom? I need to show you something that’s an accident.”

I wasn’t really paying much attention because I was too busy looking at myself in the magnifying mirror.

I’m joking. I wasn’t really looking at myself in that mirror, but I totally wanted to be. I’ve had to let it go. Although Gulley and I took great comfort in knowing we aren’t alone in our eyebrow imperfections. It’s like a national epidemic that no one talks about in public. I wish I could offer a cure, but as one commenter named Samantha said, “They’re not twins. They’re sisters.” That’s some wisdom right there.

Anyway, I wasn’t concerned about Will’s “something that’s an accident” until I heard Gulley say, “Oh Will. What did you do? Those are Mel’s.”

Yes. Yes they were.

It was our first road-trip casualty.

Later in the day, Gulley let me borrow a pair of her sunglasses and we took the kids to swim at Adamson’s Lagoon which was a delight.

They were especially fond of the Lily Pad obstacle course that made them feel like contestants on “Wipeout”.

Gulley and I were fans because we saw an activity that was going to burn excessive energy. Energy that causes people to “accidentally” break some sunglasses using brute force.

We came home from swimming just in time to get ready to go out to eat Mexican food at Abuelo’s with Honey and Big. It had been five days since I’d had chips and salsa so I was in the midst of some serious withdrawal. After we’d all eaten way too much, we made our way outside to stand in the blazing heat and look at the fountain.

After standing there for a few seconds, they all decided to run around the entire thing about five times. I know there’s nothing I’d rather do after eating a plate of cheese enchiladas than run as fast as I can in 104 degree temperatures. It’s surprisingly refreshing.

So that was our day.

But y’all aren’t going to believe what happened.

A long time ago, I wrote this post about Gulley and I and our love for the Big Gulp in college. It was a general tale of rambling, but at the end of the story I talked about a cashier named Al at the Quikmart by our apartment who got Gulley’s phone number off a check she wrote for 99 cents to pay for a Big Gulp.

(Please keep in mind that this was when we were in college almost twenty years ago. Neither of us would ever write a check for 99 cents these days. We’d use a debit card.)

Last night before dinner, Gulley ran into a nearby convenience store on University Drive to buy some Visine for Jackson’s eyes while I waited in the car. She came back out, got in the car and said, “You aren’t going to believe who I just saw.”

“Who?” (Thinking maybe it was somebody like R.C. Slocum or another football coach that A&M still pays a lot of money for a vague job description.)

“Al.”

“Al who?”

“Al. AL FROM THE QUIKMART ON VILLA MARIA. HE REMEMBERED ME BY NAME.”

And she remembered him. Of course it helped that he was wearing a nametag that read “Al”.

Seriously. What are the odds?

I realize none of you may find this as fascinating as we found it, but it made our whole night. I mean, it wasn’t better than examining your face at length in a magnifying mirror, but it was a close second.

Later today we’ll load up the kids for the last time and head home to San Antonio. The kids are already talking about how sad they are that it’s all over, but we’ve assured them a new tradition has been born. In fact, next year we may rent a Winnebago and stay on the road for about two weeks.

Not really on the Winnebago. I can barely park a car.

But the two week part? That’s for real.

Also, on a completely unrelated note, several of you asked about the orange skirt I was wearing earlier in the week. I’m sad to report that I bought it at Gap about two summers ago, but pleased to let you know I got it on sale for $8.00. It may be the best $8.00 I’ve ever spent.

Anyway, this one from Gap is fairly similar to it and so is this one from Old Navy.

Y’all have a good Friday.