The butthole of America

Maybe we were playing Justin Bieber too loud, but we didn't hear it at first. Then we came to a stop in Cleveland rush hour traffic, and rolled the windows down to get some air.

"Do you hear that?"
"Yeah. Is it the car behind us?"
"Uhh... (leans out window)..."
"No. That's us."
"What the hell is it?"

It was metal on metal, a scraping like ten thousand nails on an angry chalkboard. We were 9 hours into the drive, 3 hours from our destination. In the middle of fucking Ohio.

We decided to roll the windows up and pretend like it wasn't happening. It worked for a few minutes, until I noticed the car behind me flashing its brights. She pulled up alongside us on the highway and motioned for us to roll the window down.

"THERE'S SOMETHING DRAGGINGGGG!" She yelled.

I waved our gratitude and decided we couldn't ignore it any longer. We pulled off a random exit into the least shady looking gas station we could find. I put on my big girl panties and scooted under the car like I'd seen K do a hundred times.

Sure as shit, a big metal piece hung down from the belly of my trusty Focus, touching the asphalt.

We Googled a Munro Muffler in the area, and tried to contain the swear words as we drove as slowly as possible. Another lady at a stop light rolled her window down to yell a warning. At this point, it was salt in the wound.

I prepared my gameface as we walked into the lobby of the tire shop. I wasn't about to get taken advantage of in a foreign town, in the middle of godforsaken OHIO. My sister and I had dubbed it the butthole of America for a reason.

Tim was a gentleman, nothing less. He whipped my Focus up onto the lift and we cheered as he tore the metal sheeting from the bottom of my car with reckless macho abandon.

I offered him $20 to thank him, but he wouldn't take it. I was going to hug him, but my sister said don't make it weird.

And so, 45 minutes later, we were back on the road, sans a heat shield. Thank you, Tim--you saved the day. And Ohio, I hate you just a little less now.

Eating My Feelings

If you're looking for me today, you can find me curled in the fetal position in front of my fridge with the door open, surrounded by empty Tupperware containers playing a little game called "Eat My Feelings." It's also known as "Shit, I Bought a Ton of Fruit Last Week and If I Don't Eat It Before We Leave It'll Spoil."

Better than Monopoly, I swear.

We're heading to the mitten for an early Christmas with my fam, and I'm freaking the fuck out as usual. I hate leaving the kitties for an extended period of time, for fear they'll go crazy and eat the Christmas tree and poop all over the floor. Which will probably happen.

I am also borderline OCD, made worse by the fact that I work from home and rarely leave the house except to throw snowballs at my bitchy mail lady, so every time I DO leave, it takes at least 20 minutes to check the stove five times, unplug EVERYTHING, and recheck the stove another five times.

And that's just when I'm leaving for the gym.

So you can imagine that when we go on vacation, my OCD heads into overdrive.

Hence the ever increasing pyramid of food containers piling up on my kitchen floor in a desperate attempt to salvage our foodstuffs.

Does anyone else get this way when they leave the house? Or am I just out of my mind? It wouldn't surprise me, honestly.

Bipolar Sunburn

We had one good day of sun on our vacay--and I took full advantage of it. Despite wincing glances from everyone at the beach at my lobster-esque appearance, I was determined to come home with a tan.

The problem with sunburns is that you never know how truly crispy you are until you get home and survey the damage. Then you REALLY find out once you hop in the shower.

But the kicker is trying to sleep.

One minute you feel like your skin is going to burn off, like an ant under a magnifying glass. You can't get comfortable, and you strip all the sheets off of your skin--you can't bear to have anything touching you. You open the window before you drift off in hopes that a small breeze will have pity on you and cool your spontaneously combusting outer layer.

Then you wake up in the middle of the night freezing your ass off. Your teeth are chattering, you have goosebumps, and you grasp frantically for the blankets to cover yourself. You instantly regret going to bed with the window open, and wish you could gather the courage to come out from your down comforter burrito for the ten seconds it will take to close it.

But let me tell you that when I finally awoke the morning after to a golden complexion staring me back in the mirror, (I tried to ignore the raccoon eyes) the night of fitful sleep was entirely worth it. Come on, you can't come home from vacation without a tan. It's blasphemy.

I'm not dead, and a high five to the mitten state

K and I on the beach :)

I'm back kiddies! I swear I'm not dead. I just took a little roadtrip vacay to the mitten to visit my dad.

My dad lives on the west side of the mitten state, in the coolest place on the planet: Silver Lake. So we decided to travel through Canada and across the mitten to get there.

We thought going through Justin Bieber's home country would make the trip shorter. We were wrong. Fourteen hours and two frustrating stops at the border later, we were in the mitten. Canada, do we LOOK like we're trying to smuggle drugs in our cooler? Pipe it down.

Niagara Falls -- gorgeous!

We stopped in Niagara Falls for a night to break up the trip, which helped. (And was beautiful!) But I forgot how frustrating it is to travel through a foreign country, even if it is Canada. Our credit cards wouldn't work at the gas pumps, and trying to convert miles to kilometers to figure out the speed limit was a challenge. (Come on, you know I'm bad at math!)

We finally arrived in the mitten state, and the week was wonderful. It was great to spend some quality time with my dad and stepmom, and my stepsister and her son even stopped by for the weekend. It was so awesome.

K and TJ, playing in the water :)

K and TJ especially seemed to hit it off, and he has since become known as "the guy with the beard."

We spent most of the rainy week just talking and catching up, and then we made it to the beach for the last day, which was awesome!

I forgot how much it centers you to be around family. I think I needed this trip more than I realized.

We finally had to say our goodbyes and make the long journey back home. The trip back took us about 16 hours, and we were exhausted when we got home. But it was SO worth it.