It all started on a normal day in sunny Arizona. I was packing the car in my pajamas while the kids ate breakfast and played. After a bit of time, I realized I hadn't seen my dog in a while. He had been outside with the kids and they didn't realize it. P.A.N.I.C. I'm 370 miles from home in a strange neighborhood to him. I jump in my car and start scanning the streets (thank goodness for the grid-like configurations). Oh my gosh!!!!! I would drive up to a street and stop to call him while looking right and left. I noticed a truck coming toward me and lo and behold the guy had Fritz hanging out his passenger window and he was out looking for his owner. I immediately asked him 'did you find that dog on the street?' and he said 'yes - he had called my home number on his tag and was searching for me once he realized I was from out of town'. I burst into tears. And Fritz was pretty much glued to my side for the rest of the day.

Moving on.......deep breath.....we hit the road heading toward 29 Palms to stop and visit some friends before trekking all the way home. What's that? I'm going 98MPH; um, NO...I'm going with the flow of traffic. Oh great, my speedometer is on the blink. @@ Lucky I have a full tank of gas and a trip counter. We arrived at our friend's home five hours later. I really need my speedometer; I'm afraid to go fast w/o it.

So we are watching the kids play RockBand and just hanging out. Out of nowhere, Amanda makes a mad dash for the bathroom. Oh freaking no! You guessed it - puking. Another one bites the dust. WHY(*?>(% wasn't I wise enough to just go home? Why was I stupid enough to think after two days post-Ian-illness we were fine? I immediately put a halt to staying for dinner and sent the kids looking for their shoes while I cleaned & Lysoled the bathroom. I am a terrible friend; I feel so bad. With a nice yellow bucket & plastic grocery bags for lining. I started the mad dash for home. 100 miles.

Poor Amanda -- we weren't even to the main road and she was grabbing the bucket. Sigh. Before we got down the hill to the interstate.....I had to stop and ask for more grocery bags from a random store in the middle of nowhere. On or around puke #5 for Amanda, Maggie chimes in with 'why aren't we home yet?' immediately followed by 'OMG, I'm going to throw up'...........I kid you not. I'm completely serious. Amanda managed to swing the bucket back to her with little mess. I'm still 45 miles from home at this point. The boys are both asleep. I will never get home at this rate. [Fingers crossed that Maggie is just nauseous from listening to Amanda.]

With a wonky speedometer that does not work AT ALL at this point (unless I'm going so fast that it doesn't even register) and running low on plastic bags, I'm simply frantic to get home. Amanda lurches once again and I immediately roll down the back passenger window in an effort to get air and noise into the car so no one else will gag from Amanda. The freezing blast of air wakes the boys -- I think I heard Sean mutter 'what the hell Mom, close the window?' but I was to worried about Maggie starting up again to really comprehend it all. Seriously, the poor child is dry-heaving at this point so I do not even pull over to change liner & toss the precious bag.

2-1/2 hours later we arrived home. Home-Sweet-Home. Amanda stepped in the door bucket in hand and started up again. Maggie held out until she had some 7-up and then decided to join Amanda.

BUT - I will be thankful for something:
1) no traffic jams
2) plastic grocery bags
3) hand sanitizer
4) a hot shower
5) my own bed (while dh sleeps downstairs on puke patrol)

Cue Twilight Zone music...........