Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Domo is My Copilot

Tonight I’m lying in my old bed wishing my dad hadn't adulterated his delicious salsa and listening to Michael Sr. work a Rubik’s 4 x 4. I forgot how noisy those things are. The night isn’t exactly young but I’m regretting the lack of ear plugs in my night stand.

We’re in Yelm. It took all morning but I finally managed to finish the packing, dig out all the winter coats (it hasn’t been cold enough for the heaviest jackets), sweep the floors, finish the laundry, make lists for the pet sitter, put a vacation hold on the paper, call in a prescription, and oh I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It isn’t interesting and you’ve certainly had to pack up and leave for Somewhere. You know for every one thing you check off the list, at least two more items come to mind.

Michael got the green light to cut out a few hours early today so we were able to leave sooner than we thought. We made it over the pass before dark which is always a bonus this time of the year. For safety reasons of course but also the kids enjoy spotting waterfalls. This afternoon there were plenty.

We usually stop at least once for gas and/or restroom visits; maybe Rye Grass Summit or Ellensburg or North Bend. This time I was driving and no one felt they HAD to stop so we didn’t. It’s a long drive but my kids are good riders and usually put up with my lessons in musicology. I set my music to shuffle and quiz them. The first discussion was about Don McLean’s “American Pie” but mostly I just ask what song they’re hearing and who’s singing it. Today I remember Supertramp, Muse, Journey, B.T.O., B.A.D, B.O.C, The Eagles, Glenn Miller, The Outfield, Bryan Ferry, and Lynyrd Skynyrd but there plenty more. Some they know right off, others not so much. A score from “The Barber of Seville” came on and they asked what it was. Before I could answer Michael Sr. said, “Bad News Bears”. I guess there’s more than one right answer! There’s got to be a gazillion more important things I could be teaching them but goodness I love my music.

It was an uneventful drive with little naps here and there (blessedly, none were taken by me!) with kids discussing the merits of instituting two or perhaps even three Christmases per year. Michael Jr. drew a picture of a Mexican turkey (I was totally expecting a stereotypical sarape and sombrero on it but apparently this a real animal and not some racist holiday joke) and Sierra entertained us with the bumper sticker app on her phone (“It’s not who you know, it’s whom you know”—is that funny? I guess sort of if you’re an English major ). Later I hear Michael Jr. ask his sister about hearing in 3D and I wonder who’s going to be homeschooling who. Or whom. Or whatever. Because I am a liberal arts graduate and should really know these things. But God, not Domo, is my copilot, right? I can handle it. Theoreticaly.

Then I see a church billboard as we head toward McKenna: “If God is your copilot, switch seats”. I smile and sigh. Good to be back in my old stomping grounds. We made our way through thick fog and drizzle to smiling faces, hugs, and a hot meal. I’m happy to be here, even if Dad did ruin his salsa with broccoli and radishes.
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