6:10 p.m. | 2002-11-17 Saturday Night Party. Like Uncle Bob, I went to a party last night. I, however, think my party was more fun than his. I went to my younger sister�s 32nd birthday party which was held at the home of my father and stepmother. Now my father, stepmother, dearest sister and her kids, and both of my stepsisters, their husbands and kids all live in the same town, which is about 90 miles from my town. My younger sister, her husband and their child live in a different town which is about 90 miles from my town in a different direction. Anyway, my younger sister and her family were going to my dearest sister�s town (she used to be the only one that lived there) this weekend, Saturday happened to be her birthday and my dad decided to throw a little surprise party for her. Both myself and my other sister (who lives 90 miles in another direction from my town) were invited. Now an odd thing about dearest sister�s town, besides the fact that it�s slowly filling up with members of my family, is that it ALWAYS takes me 2 hours to get there even though it�s roughly 90 miles away, I only make one 5-10 minute stop, and I speed. ALWAYS. This has been going on for years. Anyway, 2 hours is my maximum driving time. Driving is very painful for me plus I can�t take my medications so that gets all out of whack and consequently, I HATE driving more than 10 miles from my home. HATE IT. But, it was my younger sister�s birthday and since I rarely drive anywhere, I usually only see my family members (other than dearest sister) once a year at the annual gathering. So I sucked it up and decided to attend. First problem? Uh, I didn�t know where my dad and stepmom live. I know where their summer home is (and it�s, say it with me, 90 miles away in a different direction) because they�ve had that home for many years and I�ve been there many times. However, they only moved back to the United States (they lived in Germany for 20 years) last year and they bought a winter home in dearest sister�s town. And, of course I have their address, I just don�t know how to get to their house. So I called my dad and asked him where he lives. Yeah, he was surprised too. So I set out. As is tradition whenever I go to dearest sister�s town, I stop at the penny candy store to purchase must-have candies such as Chick-O-Sticks, Zots, Pop Rocks, Laffy Taffy, Fireballs, Abba Zabba, Charleston Chews, Jaw Breakers, Lemon-Heads, Boston Baked Beans, Kits, Sixlets and Red Hots. After handing over $16 � it�s tradition to get candy for everyone � I hit the road again. Exactly 2 hours later, I pulled up in front of their house. Then I drug my tremendously stiff body out of the car and limped up to the door. Everyone was surprised and happy to see me. I was happy to see everyone too. We chatted, ate snacks, laughed at the little ones, had dinner and so on. There were kids all over the place, from 4-months-old up to 20. (It was a tad noisy, which of course, caused an instant migraine. But it�s worth it. They�re all just too cute and funny!) Then it was cake and ice cream time. The cake was chocolate with chocolate fudge filling and double chocolate fudge frosting. There were 3 choices of ice cream: Chocolate, Chocolate Fudge and Death by Chocolate. Apparently, my younger sister has a wee penchant for chocolate. I had a pomegranate instead. Much to my surprise and delight, I discovered that younger sister�s two-year-old son doesn�t like cake or ice cream either. He did however like the sprinkles on the cake and very carefully and diligently picked those off and ate them. He�s also left-handed and a rock hound like me. He is deliciously cute, quite clever, exceedingly polite and very well-behaved. And he also likes guacamole and salsa (even hot salsa). I�m loving that kid more and more each day. Anyway, we all had a great time. By then it was 8:00pm and I had to get on the road. So I said my goodbyes and walked outside. FOG. Fucketyfuckfuckfuck. I have difficulty driving at night as it is; I certainly don�t need it to be foggy. I hoped and prayed it was just a little local fog. I got on the highway and headed to my town. Let me just say, it was FOGGIER THAN FUCK out there. For the first 30 miles, I was the lead car on the road and I couldn�t see SHIT. Finally, after passing a town, another car got in front of me. That helped. But it was still FOGGIER THAN FUCK. Many times we were driving 35 miles an hour in a 65 mile per hour zone (where everyone normally drives 75-85 miles per hour). Okay, I was full of pain when I got in my car. Now I had a death grip going on my steering wheel, I was tenser than a cat ready to pounce, and I couldn�t see SHIT. I was not a happy camper. Not at all. Luckily, I�ve been going to dearest sister�s house for many years so I knew that I just had to stay on that road � I didn�t have to turn anywhere or anything. Thank god because, most of the time, I had absolutely no fucking idea where I was. FOG, FOG, FOG all the way until I hit my town. Then it magically disappeared and it was as clear as a bell. So I drove in the fog for hours and BOOM! I�m in my town. Frankly, I was disoriented as hell and suddenly had no idea how to get to my house. Fortunately I remembered, just in the nick of time, and took all the right exits and freeways and pulled up in front of my house EXACTLY 2 HOURS LATER. See now, explain that to me. I sped all the way there and drove under the speed limit all the way back. EXACTLY 2 HOURS TO GET THERE AND EXACTLY 2 HOURS TO GET HOME. It�s been like this for years. Construction � 2 hours; no construction � 2 hours. Accident � 2 hours; no accident � 2 hours. Fog � 2 hours; no fog � 2 hours. Dearest sister told me to call her when I got home so I did. I told her that she lives in a 2-hour town. Then, being girls, we talked for hours. I went to bed at 3:00am. With a migraine, broken legs and excruciatingly painful arms. I woke up this morning feeling like I had been run over by a fleet of semi-trucks. I still feel like shit. It takes a couple of days to recover from 4 hours of driving. See why I don�t drive anywhere? But, it was worth it. Oh, and for the record, my father and stepmother are quite fond of the penny candy tradition. your thoughts? seed flower