Half-Way to Snow Bird Land

I left Big D again.

That's why I haven't been writing.  I've been sitting on a different couch.  With no gumption to say anything.  Even though there are things to be said.

But this morning I've gathered my gumption.

I'm on my annual trip down south.  (Ok, it's only the second time that I've done it.  But I think two times in a row makes it annual.)

Big D gets really nervous with my driving.  He'd like to preserve the family for a bit longer, so he drove us down.  Actually, I kind of manipulated him into driving us.  I say things like:  "I'm really fine.  There is no need to drive us down.  But you can make the call, being the family protector and all".  And then he feels  guilty without me being needy and whiny.  And he takes care of his manly business and I get to be chauffeured.  And I let him chauffeur me in style.  I always wear my biggest granny panties. (There is nothing worse than having a wad of underwear stuck where you can't reach it for hours and hours)  And without fail, I choose the sweat pants that Big D has vowed to never have intercourse with me again - if I wear them.  (They're just so cozy and perfect)  And I smile gleefully.  And my butt is happy.

My favorite is when I take the kids into the restroom stops.  Big D never shows his face with us.  He pumps gas.  But I can see right through his antics.  He's horrified to be associated with us.  So he pumps and we pee.  And then when we're half way into the parking lot, he bolts from our car, straight into the rest stop - without a glance our way.  And nobody would guess for a second that he is our hired chauffeur/father of the sewer rat children/husband of this hot piece of eye candy.

For this trip, I was a real mom.  I made food for the car.  And it was 100 times better than "packing food" sounds.  Like - I imagine, smooshed, car-warm pb and jelly.  But I was way fancier than that.

I made poo-tang sandwiches in mini pita pockets.  And they rocked our world.  So so tasty.  And made our trip 3 times happier and 2 hours shorter.  The chauffeur was happy.  I packed other things too - but nothing was quite so trip-changing as those samiches. (That's how Big D says it.)

And we listened to books on tape.  And stopped in the middle of a busy busy highway in the dark, to rush Ed to the edge of death - so he could pee.

Before we knew it - (only because I packed sandwiches) we made it to B.B. Chuck's house.  And the kids ran around and screamed and squealed like banshees for an hour.  And the adults looked at each other and smiled and wished so hard that it was bed time.

And then Big D woke up a few hours later and flew back home. 

So in actuality, Big D is the one that left me.  And wouldn't you know - he's missing me.  Wishing he could catch a glimpse of this plush bottom in a pair of granny panties.

Take Aways
1)  My gumption has left.