Hijinx: Papal and Otherwise

Yeah, the biological difference between men and women was never much to shout about anyway. A penis is really just a dildo that creates an unfortunate mess.

And if the pope really thinks my uterus ought to be the focal point of my lifecourse, he can go screw (every single, posible pun absolutely intended).

I've just spent thirteen hours on the road, and ended up right where I woke up this morning. Mom, DD (Other Mother), and I went to see my "Baby Brother" Andy in a musical review in Wisconsin Dells. Andy is a very talented performer, and absolutely cracked my shit up with his performance. It's amazing to watch someone who you can remember holding as a baby live one of his dreams.

That's enough sap for one entry. Now on to the hilarity of the drive. The drive down was not eventful, but on the way back we were all a little loopy. First, my mother wisely decided that her Honda Civic was too big for the "autos only" side of a rest stop, so she parked next to all of the semis and RVs. Thus began references to her "rig" that lasted for the next two hours.

Second, as we pulled out of the truck stop it started to rain. Now, there was a pretty fabulous lightning show for most of the ride, so the rain was not unexpected. In fact, as we pulled into the rest area, I made the observation that it would soon start raining, as it was almost my turn to drive. My mother seconded this premonition, as she had repeatedly forgotten to change her wiper blades. Sure enough, it started raining...

... And would. Not. Stop. The highway was flooded, and I could feel the complete lack of traction beneath me. I slowed way down just as the HAIL started. We pulled off at the (mercifully close) next exit, where I ran in to see if the gas station there stocked wiper blades. Stroke of luck number one: they did.

So the problem was, I couldn't get the damn things on. See, I've done it before, but I was lacking in eyesight tonight. Having to make the choice between wearing the glasses and seeing nothing or not wearing them and seeing poorly, I chose the latter. Stroke of luck number two: the guy at the next pump offered to do it.

So the wipers were changed, and I was soaked. My mother had an extra shirt in the car, so I changed into that (yes, in a parking lot crowded with people. I am a girl. We know how to change in public without exposing ourselves). After that, DD offered to drive again. I was only too glad to let her, but none of us wanted to get out of the car to switch. So we did the only possible thing we could do: we rotated places all at once within the car. It really was a funny as it sounds.

Finally, finally, FINALLY we made it into Minnesota, when suddenly one of the wiper blades does a funky dance and rotates iteslef around the arm. Not five miles from our destination, we pull off to the side of the road, I put on my sopping wet shoes and get out to fix it. Stroke of luck number three: it has stopped raining enough that I could wear my glasses to do it. We were back on the road in two minutes.

I fear I have run out of luck for today. I'm exhausted, sore, and cold. I'm going to bed before anything else happens. Today's lesson: check your wiper blades before road trips. Or: you can never have too big a parking spot for a Honda Civic. Your choice.