The Third Ugliest Car in the World

I picked up my rental car this morning. I got in it and sniffed. The Camry (ironically the same color as ours) smelled smoky. I went back and asked for a different car. I got this.



The Chevy HHR. I guess it could be worse. It could be a PT Cruiser or a stretch Hummer limo.

Lizzy and The Experienced Traveler

On our flight to Detroit our seats ended up all over the place. My husband and I were on the exit row, Bri and Will were in front of us, Jake was a couple of seats forward and Lizzy ended up several rows behind us.

We managed to switch around so I was on the same row as Bri and Will; and my husband and Jake were across the aisle. During the long wait on the tarmac my husband went back to trade with Lizzy.

The man she was sitting next to was taken with Lizzy. He said that he asked her how old she was.

"Seven."

"Is your mom or dad on the plane?" She tilted her head to the side, twisted the bottom of her chin and shrugged.

"Where are you going?"

"Utah."

"You know that this plane doesn't go to Utah?"

"I know. I'll get on another plane."

"Is anyone meeting you?"

"My aunt, I think."

"Well, I'm an experienced traveler if you need any help."

"Ok."

He told my husband that story twice, then as the wait lengthened on the tarmac started pulling out his free samples of Absolut and drinking them down.

The Point At Which Our Luck Started To Change

The hotel's shuttle bus dropped us off at the terminal. As we walked to the door I realized that I'd left my purse on it. I ran into the road and waved the shuttle down.

Even though we hadn't eaten we checked in and went to a flight that was scheduled to fly directly to Salt Lake City. We were scheduled to fly from Detroit to Atlanta then to Utah; arriving after 10:00pm more than 26 hours later than expected.

All six of us made it onto the 12:15 flight to SLC; ironically, with three seats in a row and two the row ahead on either side of the aisle. Only Bri was off by herself.

We arrived in SLC at 2:20pm which is either 17 hours late or 8 hours early depending upon how you look at it.

Yes, It Really Was That Bad!

Thursday, we got to the airport in plenty of time for our4:20 flight. We were ecstatic to find out that our six seats were scattered though out the plane. Really? Who's the lucky person who gets to sit next to my autistic 9 year-old? Please remember to take him to the bathroom frequently. We waited at the gate for about an hour because Detroit was stormy. We finally got on the plane only to wait on the tarmac for over three hours.

When the time passed for our connecting flight to leave, my husband made a reservation for a hotel in Detroit. We finally arrived in Detroit at 10:00pm. I waited in an endless line to find out about my checked bag, only to find out that it would stay at the airport.

The one bag we checked had all my clothes, toiletries and most of William's. Fabulous. My husband tried to call the hotel for over an hour while we waited for a shuttle bus. We gave up and moved to the taxi line. We made it to front of the line. "Please be a van!" I chanted to myself. No, no, no, no. One arrived only to be put out that we weren't going very far. I told the kids to get in the van because I wasn't waiting any longer for anything else.

"It's dark over there." The driver said a couple of times.

"What does that even mean?" I wondered.

We arrived in that section of town only to see that indeed it was dark-- because all the electricity was out. The driver drove into different parking lots, muttering angerly, as we scanned the signs looking for the right hotel.

We found the hotel. Obviously, they weren't answering their phones because they didn't work. The shuttle buses weren't running because they had been sent out to buy glow sticks; which, naturally, ran out before we got there. My husband checked us in. I hoped for a low floor. When he finished I asked him what level. I thought he said two and I was pretty excited. We followed a guy up a few flights of stairs. "What floor are we on?" I asked again as William and I fell further and further behind the group. I tried to hurry Will up the stairs with only a trickle of light to guide us. But he was only going to move as fast as he was going to move.

"Seven." He called down to me.

We schlepped the kids, the suitcases, the backpacks and assorted crap up seven flights of stairs to our dark, hot hotel room where William was now wide awake. It was after midnight and all I wanted to do was sleep.

"Mom bed sit. Dad bed sit." Will requested. Fine.

"Fall asleep." I chanted. "And don't wet the bed!"

I dreamed twice that I took Will to the bathroom. In the morning I sent my husband downstairs to see if they were serving breakfast. "The power is off." He protested.

"They'll still have something." I insisted.

He agreed to go after a quick, dark shower. "Ohhh." I heard him say. A while later he came out. "There isn't any hot water." I knew I was wearing the same clothes for a second day so I didn't have a choice. I took a refreshing shower. Bri takes long showers regardless of water temperature. She even washed and conditioned her hair.

My husband brought up three bottle of apple juice. "Breakfast is ready." He announced.

....

Vacation

I'm getting ready to leave and if the preparation does kill us 12 hours from now we'll see my sister Eileen, Yea!

Poor Marcy came over this morning and left with the tadpole and assorted veggies from the CSA.

Living out the Myth of Sisyphus: Will is the boulder

William’s latest obsession is driving me crazy; completely over the edge!

There are a few things that are organized in my life: my kid’s schedules, most of my books, my 6 month supply of tampons (because if there is one thing I don’t want to run out of in the case of a nuclear winter it would be tampons! Even thinking about that makes me want to buy 3 more 100 count boxes from BJs.) One of the few things that are relatively organized is my mound of autism/school/therapy papers. At least they were.

I’ve filled a filing cabinet drawer with records. But some things I like to file in three ring binders. The problem is that Will loves binders. He loves to rearrange them almost as much as he likes to write on any available piece of paper. (I’ve found entire notebooks with one letter written on each page.) I have a cabinet in the living room that I use to hold folders.

Will discovered them a few months ago. He started rearranging them binder by binder. For months I spent a few minutes every day reorganizing binders. I slowly removed binder after binder from the cabinet. And as I removed favorite binders he started rearranging new ones. When we got the point of mounds of paper on the floor in front of the cabinet, two scattered photo albums, one three-ring binder labeled School Year 2008/2009 that was completely empty and three-ring binders filled with odd stuff like dollar bills with holes punched in them along with miscellaneous crap I keep around; I gave up and emptied the cabinet of almost everything. But I left a binder for Will filled with stuff I hoped he’d like --which he promptly emptied.

End of Year Wrap Up

It's official. School is out. Summer vacation started about three hours ago. Bri celebrated by going to a friend’s house for a party and Jake, Lizzy and I met Marcy and Dave at Bertucci’s for lunch.

We are going to Utah for three weeks on Thursday; so, I have a little bit to do to prepare. My husband isn’t going to be much help because he’s in Connecticut today, Danvers tomorrow and Philadelphia on Wednesday. Hopefully, he has enough time to pack.

A complete non-sequitur I know, but could it rain any more here? I might as well be living in Seattle.