Weirdest. Drive. Ever.
It has been a week. Not a bad week, mind you. Just a week. I am exhausted. So very, very exhausted. But for the most part it is in a good way!
Explain to me how it is that I need a week to recover from a three day weekend?
I took last Friday off so that the boy and I could adequately pack up a herd of dogs and all their associated equipment and head to Northern California for a weekend of flyball. Because while most people are heading out to go camping or lounge at the beach, I choose to spend my three day weekend screaming, “GO GO GO!” non-stop in my happiest voice while shrieking terriers spit out brightly colored balls of all shapes and sizes so they can hang off of fake fur tug toys, frequently missing and hitting my hand/arm/thigh/hip…all so we can bring home some killer squeaky toys. And of course, we all love every minute of it. No really, we do!
But I will say this. The drive down? Weirdest. Drive. Ever.
You see, Friday was May 25 and we have been in the throes of an early summer so of course it was raining, hailing and snowing when we left. SNOWING.
Apparently all the weather woke up a sleeping wasp in the truck and said wasp decided to visit me in a not so friendly manner. Like the calm, rational woman I am I of course started frantically trying to beat it with a pink camo tug toy and screaming like the zombie apocalypse was upon us causing the boy to make an unplanned pit stop so that angry wasp and panicked woman could part ways. (And no, I still have no idea why I completely spazzed out dealing with Brother Buzz.)
There is something you should know about the two of us. We don’t make unplanned stops. We are seasoned weekend warriors, a well oiled machine-scheduled down to the last tenth of a second. There is a good reason for this, I’m sure but somewhere over ten years of traveling weekend after weekend, racing from work to show grounds in the middle of the night with pre-dawn start times we have developed a process, albeit a neurotic and obsessive process. As flexible and laid back as we can be, however, it has its drawbacks.
Like this one: We both stood in the strip mall parking lot, watching Mr. Angry Wasp fly away, both at a complete loss. We only make ONE stop on this voyage. ONE. And we weren’t even close to that stopping point. Heaven forbid we just get back in the truck and keep going. Nope. We have a schedule and even though we are two hours ahead of that damned schedule, we are standing in a parking lot like Brad and Janet in a rain storm about to face transvestites from Transsexual Transylvania.
Thank god for Starbucks. And Taco Bell.
First, we head to Starbucks because an over caffeinated beverage is sure to fix all of this. While waiting for said drink I decided to take a potty break (this is dog sport speak for “Woman gotta pee and the boy will ONLY stop once so get it done NOW, dammit”). As I calmly approached the door, a man in a tailored suit threw the door of the Starbucks open, shoved me out of the way (and I mean SHOVED) and darted into the unisex single serve restroom.
I decided I probably should use the restroom at the Taco Bell across the parking lot. Just saying.
With beverages in hand, we sauntered to Taco Bell because of course potato tacos with hot sauce go awesome with non-fat iced quad lattes. I used the facilities and we were back on the road.
With Mr. Angry Wasp, who flew right back in the cab of the truck the instant I opened the door.
Are you kidding me? With more rational coaxing using the aforementioned tug toy, the wasp at last left us and we were “finally” (as the boy put it) back on the road.
Other interesting sights on this trip? A driver reading a comic book draped over his steering wheel at the I-80/I-5 interchange in Sacramento, a car backing up at high speeds in traffic and what appeared to be a pack of rabid squirrels charging the truck at the tournament site. Okay. They weren’t rabid. But they spent a lot of time tormenting poor Penelope. She was one pissed off terrier.
And that is how my three day weekend started. Now let’s cover while I am so tired in less than two minutes, shall we?
The tournament was fun but I burned over 2,500 calories each day through non-stop running. Dogs ran well, teams placed well and I apparently got a tan. I also popped scar tissue in that dislocated middle finger. It hurt like a bitch, but I pushed through it and gained increased mobility. Awesome.
I have worked A LOT all week. So much for a quiet post holiday week. Heck, this morning I even jumped behind the counter of my Starbucks during what I will now be calling the Great Credit Card Disaster of 2012. You know those old school manual credit card imprint machines? Use of them is a lost art apparently. I am undecided as to whether or not I should feel old because I remember a time when they were used regularly or I should just be happy I paid attention while doing a spelling check on that “In Case of Emergency Loss of Internet” presentation a couple years ago. Either way, my faithful baristas who always put a smiley face on my cup and ask me about the dogs or running (you know, whatever!) were more than a little surprised that I can do more than drink lattes and crank out numbers.
I am also on my third day of grocery shopping. Don’t ask.
And I stayed up until 2 am watching “Hatfields & McCoys” back to back to back just because I didn’t want to have to wait to see what happens next (despite the fact that I was following along the death timeline on Wikipedia, which as we all know is absolutely the BEST source of information about such things).
Somewhere in there, I found time to lose a pound and get several miles in. And of course, I have another busy weekend planned. I think I get to sleep again sometime around November 1st.