Home, Sweet Home

We drove over a thousand miles in the past two days.  With four kids in the backseat.  The good news?  We’re home.  The bad news?  Our 4-year old got car sick for the first time.  (She called it a “car cold.”)  The good news?  She informed me that she was going to throw up and then very conveniently did so into an empty coffee cup.  By the time we stopped the car for gasoline, she was perky and ready to eat chocolate donuts.
On our journey from Southern California to green Washington state, we passed an onion processing plant . . . we smelled it a mile before we saw it.  We saw many trucks full of tomatoes and one full of peppers.  We saw a truck carting a bunch of dingy white chickens to their fates.  We smelled miles of cows, cows as far at the eye could see.  We saw sheep, horses and miles and miles and miles of tan, desolate hills.  We saw Mt. Shasta swathed in a shawl of white, cotton-batting clouds.  We stopped to pee way more times than we stopped to get gasoline or eat which hardly seems possible if you consider that what goes in must come out . . . how does more come out than goes in?

The most tragic event occurred Friday.  My husband, in his quest to get us out of our hotel room as quickly as possible, failed to notice my beloved pillow on the bed . . . and I didn’t take one last look around because I’d already been shooed out of the room.  I called the hotel as soon as I realized my loss, but had to leave a telephone message.  (I found myself in one of those crazy telephone loops where I didn’t get to talk to a real person about my crisis.)  Tonight, my husband called again and alas, no one has seen my pillow.

Clearly, if I travel with my pillow, I am very attached to it.  Was very attached to it.

Tomorrow, after I sleep in and get a crick in my neck, I’m going pillow shopping.  And grocery shopping.  Alone.  Glory to God in the highest.  It’s good to be home.

The Burning Plain full

7 thoughts on “Home, Sweet Home

  1. I just spent a month in NC visiting family and friends and took my pillow(s) with me all the way from TX-by car. I forgot to take the pillows with me to one friends house and it was not that great of a night. I hope you can find a replacement pillow. Soon.

    Were you able to do the Finding Nemo ride? Hope so!


  2. I’m assuming you came down I5, not 99.

    On 99, about 10 miles north of here (Merced), are huge fields of onions (and probably some processing as well), lots of cows to provide methane, and a McDonalds for the smell of french fry grease.

    Amazing combination.


  3. My deepest sympathy on the loss of your dearly loved pillow.

    I shall be wearing my black arm-band in mourning.

    I’ve lost a pillow before, so can totally relate to your pain.

    RIP, pillow.


  4. Alone, huh? That hardly seems fair. I’m almost certain that the lost pillow was advance payment for this ridiculous luxury you intend on having.


  5. Susan says:

    I’m so sorry about the loss of your pillow. I am always devastated over such items that I love dearly. It takes a few weeks to adapt to a new one and then its not the same for at least a few years. Inevitably by the time you can relate to the new people it will be lost to another hotel room.
    Welcome home..enjoy shopping alone!


  6. This advice is too little too late I realize but for your next trip: Buy a brightly colored pillowcase just for travel (any color that stands out against white will do.) This decreases the chances of leaving the pillow on the bed with the hotel.


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