Those baby blues

I have never been prone to road rage, but boy, am I irritated when I make plans to be on the road and I get waylaid. Every year, I look forward to a Valentine’s brunch at Minerva’s in Sioux Falls. Our group catches up on everyone’s lives, reminisces and enjoys superb food and risqué conversation. This year the plan went completely awry.
Thursday morning I started with my normal routine of grinding coffee beans and the anticipation of that first hit of caffeine. After just half a cup, I began to think maybe I should head to the bathroom because I felt there could be some impending intestinal distress. After a few steps my body’s distress signals went off! How fast was my dash to the bathroom? Let’s put it this way, I would have qualified to do the running of the bulls in Spain. When I reached that bathroom, I was a runaway locomotive crashing into the roundhouse.
Unfortunately for me, I had eaten Chinese food the night before and it proceeded to explode from every orifice of my body—except my ears, of course. Did I mention the terrible sounds that accompany this type of misery—“calling the dinosaurs?” Upstairs Gay was completely oblivious that her sister was having a near death experience and thought I had gone to work. There I lay for hours clinging to that porcelain god like a survivor of the Titanic with a life preserver. (No dignity remains.)
Friday, I delivered the news that I wouldn’t make the Saturday lunch date. Georgia was relieved ‘cuz she came down with a terrible cold during the night. At least I had a buddy to commiserate with.
Saturday morning, I was settled in the recliner when Georgia called and asked if I would do a big favor for her. I was entirely clueless. She said, “I know you don’t feel good, but will you ride to Brookings with me to pick up Judd?”(her grandson). I agreed and we met up with daddy Paul at Perkins. Judd was totally into his chocolate milk and chicken strips.
We departed and were about to Volga and I was hanging over the seat doing “this is the church, this is the steeple” with my fingers, when Judd opened his big blue eyes and opened his mouth and a torrent of vomit shot out at me. Every mother’s nightmare while on the road had just become mine to deal with. Three times the geyser erupted and Judd never uttered a cry. He just sat there with a startled look on his face. Georgia was screaming, “Do you want me to pull over?” I yelled, “Drive, Grandma, drive!” The only thing I had to try to mop up with was a box of Kleenex. Poor Judd sat in a pool of yuck. I was doing everything in my power not to upchuck on him too. The smell!! The smell!! Georgia cracked a window and we sped down the road safe in the knowledge that if a trooper stopped us, all we would have to do was show him Judd’s situation. Judd slept blissfully through the whole wretched ride home.
Sunday morning, Craig Godfrey notified us that Ken got the flu on Saturday too! I guess some dates are meant to be cancelled.
Happy Valentine’s
Dee Baby
P.S. Thanks “Lovy” Kahle and Milt and Betty Lou Authier for my cards! I love snail mail.