here. not there.

I didn't want to be here today. I wanted to be here

with Moxie

and Micah

and Mikey

and man, but it is pretty freakin' awesome there.

 

With natural warm water, hot mud, sweeping views, and - if you time it right - NO ONE ELSE

 
  In the way that it works, Mikey and I rubbed our hands over the gleeful and sudden decision to GO BACK THERE (we had just been a little over a week ago - or was it two? - whatever, I hadn't even been able to post the stories and pictures yet...). 
 
Woo-hoo! We were so dang happy, jumping around and packing up *real quick*, threw everything into the snarling Sexy Beast, who was all but chomping her steel bits to roll her wheels and pound some pavement. Good Beastie-Girl... good! There, there, beastie-girl, there, there now!
 
It looked good, it did. The day was bright. We chose a route that was going to swing us around Sacramento, hopefully missing Yosemite traffic.
can you see us? smack-dab, sexily reflected
 We hit some traffic around the Bay Bridge, but we thought it couldn't possibly go for all that much further. Right? Who could be Sacramento-bound? On a Saturday? Burners (galore) coming back from Burning Man on the opposite lane, fine, but headed towards Sacramento? Naaaaah.
 Naaaaaah
We crossed the Vallejo bridge
And sort of...inched our way forward. The traffic was not abating. Was not giving in. There were not, it appeared, accidents that people were rubber-necking. There were not raging roadside fires or hula girls on stilts, fire breathing dragons or anything else that would cause this mind-numbing JAM other than simply: too many cars on the road at the same time.

 

BOR-ING. Hot truck, lots of traffic. Mikey, worried about the truck overheating. Traffic. Inch-by-inch. Traffic. Hot truck. Traffic. BOR-ING.

 

Occasionally the view was spliced on the right by something gorgeously refreshing 
But um, most of the time.... this was what we were looking at:

***
BOR-ING. Hot truck, lots of traffic. Mikey, worried about the truck overheating. Traffic. Inch-by-inch. Traffic. Hot truck. Traffic. BOR-ING. BOR-ING. Hot truck, lots of traffic. Mikey, worried about the truck overheating. Traffic. Inch-by-inch. Traffic. Hot truck. Traffic. BOR-ING.BOR-ING. Hot truck, lots of traffic. Mikey, worried about the truck overheating. Traffic. Inch-by-inch. Traffic. Hot truck. Traffic. BOR-ING.BOR-ING. Hot truck, lots of traffic. Mikey, worried about the truck overheating. Traffic. Inch-by-inch. Traffic. Hot truck. Traffic. BOR-ING.
***
 
The truck overheated. The radiator spilled it's juices all over. Mikey took a deep breath and said that because we had over 8,000 more feet to climb, we ought to suck it up and GO HOME
 
I cried. He wanted to cry as well. The kids did too (more from heat and boredom, methinks, than from dashed hopes of a lovely soak in hot springs). We turned around. 
Hit a few burners, so tell-tale with the dust coating their cars and bikes with tassels! Hit more traffic too

 

Retch. More, more, more.

 

BOO!
I know, baby, I know. Me too, baby, me too.
 

And so. I'm here. Not there. Where are you?

 

http://www.doozeedad.blogspot.com/

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