Gentle readers, today I had planned to tell you that I was going to be out of town for a few days. I was going to say I would try to post daily, but that if I seem to go incommunicado that its just because I'm burning a streak through the southern states for the next 12 days.
The husband and I will first travel to Mississippi, where we'll stop over for my sister's baby shower. Then we're picking up my Mama and heading on up to Virginia – by way of the Smokey Mountains. This is the longest time we've ever tried to travel before since we have the dogs, and I have to admit that we are apprehensive about leaving our boys for so long. Ripken and Deuce are going to stay with a local veterinarian, and Sonny the Pug is staying with Elle.
This entire week, the Aggie and I have been trying to get our shit together one bagful at a time. We've packed baby stuff for my sister's shower, dog stuff for their stay in "puppy prison," clothing for the trip, a crib and stroller I bought for Mama's house and enough clothes and underwear for 15 days. I am a list-maker. I write everything down then check it off twice – once when I pack it then once when it gets in the car.
This is procedure is my patented failsafe Momma Pug Packing Method. If it's on the list, then it makes the trip. No exceptions. I learned this from my own mother, and I've used this technique for years. It has never led me astray. It's gotten through trips all over the world – England, the American West, New York, Boston, and perhaps most harrowing, both Disney theme parks.
I realize it might seem like I'm a little Monk-ish when I pack, and this brings on taunting and ridicule. But you know what, ha-ha the jokes on you, suckas! When your thighs are chapping by the time we made it to Japan in Epot Center, I'll be right as rain because I have zinc ointment in my fanny pack. I might look like a walking first aid kit/concession stand, but I guarantee you I won't be the fucker with a red ass. Why? Because I made a LIST.
So last night I was talking to my Mama and she was all DID YOU MAKE A LIST. And I was all OF COURSE I MADE A LIST. And then I read it off to her. She was mostly silently as she listened to me ramble off all the items. When I finished, she paused as if she was mulling things over.
"Hey, is your medication on that list?" she asked.
I scanned my foolproof list twice. Then I it sunk in: I NEARLY LEFT MY CRAZY PILLS AT HOME. Okay, do you know how insufferable I would have been without Momma Pug's little helpers? The poor Aggie wouldn't have made it one day with me un-medicated. By the third or fourth day, I'd start finding hard to tolerate myself. By the end of the first week, my Mama would have forced an equally calming pill down my throat.
"For goodness sakes, DO NOT FORGET YOUR PROZAC," my Mama said. "In fact, go put it in your purse RIGHT NOW."
Ouch. Even my own mother thinks riding 24 hours in a car with me would be unimaginable without "tools" to ensure the maintenance of my mental health. I suspect this fear goes back to when I was a child and my parents took me to Disney World for the first time. I was banshee, and if they had any lithium they would have slipped some into my chocolate milk.
After I assured my mother that I would not come un-medicated, we said our goodbyes and hung up. And that's when it hit me. I was getting sick. I could feel my throat tightening and my sinus ached. SERIOUSLY? The last vacation we took – last Christmas – the exact same thing happened. I spent the entire time we were in the mountains sniffling and hacking. MISERY, my friend. MISERY. Not only am I struggling to get all my shit done before I leave, but now I'm doing it through watery, achy eyes and a stuffed up nose. I might have over medicated myself because now I can't seem to open my left eye and I keep falling asleep at my desk.
Irony has a bitch, and her name is Momma Pug.
The husband and I will first travel to Mississippi, where we'll stop over for my sister's baby shower. Then we're picking up my Mama and heading on up to Virginia – by way of the Smokey Mountains. This is the longest time we've ever tried to travel before since we have the dogs, and I have to admit that we are apprehensive about leaving our boys for so long. Ripken and Deuce are going to stay with a local veterinarian, and Sonny the Pug is staying with Elle.
This entire week, the Aggie and I have been trying to get our shit together one bagful at a time. We've packed baby stuff for my sister's shower, dog stuff for their stay in "puppy prison," clothing for the trip, a crib and stroller I bought for Mama's house and enough clothes and underwear for 15 days. I am a list-maker. I write everything down then check it off twice – once when I pack it then once when it gets in the car.
This is procedure is my patented failsafe Momma Pug Packing Method. If it's on the list, then it makes the trip. No exceptions. I learned this from my own mother, and I've used this technique for years. It has never led me astray. It's gotten through trips all over the world – England, the American West, New York, Boston, and perhaps most harrowing, both Disney theme parks.
I realize it might seem like I'm a little Monk-ish when I pack, and this brings on taunting and ridicule. But you know what, ha-ha the jokes on you, suckas! When your thighs are chapping by the time we made it to Japan in Epot Center, I'll be right as rain because I have zinc ointment in my fanny pack. I might look like a walking first aid kit/concession stand, but I guarantee you I won't be the fucker with a red ass. Why? Because I made a LIST.
So last night I was talking to my Mama and she was all DID YOU MAKE A LIST. And I was all OF COURSE I MADE A LIST. And then I read it off to her. She was mostly silently as she listened to me ramble off all the items. When I finished, she paused as if she was mulling things over.
"Hey, is your medication on that list?" she asked.
I scanned my foolproof list twice. Then I it sunk in: I NEARLY LEFT MY CRAZY PILLS AT HOME. Okay, do you know how insufferable I would have been without Momma Pug's little helpers? The poor Aggie wouldn't have made it one day with me un-medicated. By the third or fourth day, I'd start finding hard to tolerate myself. By the end of the first week, my Mama would have forced an equally calming pill down my throat.
"For goodness sakes, DO NOT FORGET YOUR PROZAC," my Mama said. "In fact, go put it in your purse RIGHT NOW."
Ouch. Even my own mother thinks riding 24 hours in a car with me would be unimaginable without "tools" to ensure the maintenance of my mental health. I suspect this fear goes back to when I was a child and my parents took me to Disney World for the first time. I was banshee, and if they had any lithium they would have slipped some into my chocolate milk.
After I assured my mother that I would not come un-medicated, we said our goodbyes and hung up. And that's when it hit me. I was getting sick. I could feel my throat tightening and my sinus ached. SERIOUSLY? The last vacation we took – last Christmas – the exact same thing happened. I spent the entire time we were in the mountains sniffling and hacking. MISERY, my friend. MISERY. Not only am I struggling to get all my shit done before I leave, but now I'm doing it through watery, achy eyes and a stuffed up nose. I might have over medicated myself because now I can't seem to open my left eye and I keep falling asleep at my desk.
Irony has a bitch, and her name is Momma Pug.
2 comments:
Take TheraFlu -- the daytime kind, so you don't zonk out the whole time. It tastes like shit, but everyone I recommend it to thinks the same thing: It's awesome and makes you feel TONS BETTER, almost normal in fact.
two words. mexico - drivers license, dont forget them
dad
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