So, let me just start by saying that my trip to Florida last week was quite the adventure.  And to top it all off, I foolishly stepped onto my scale yesterday morning and almost fell into a diabetic coma.  Not that I’m diabetic or anything, but I could very well be after all of the sugary nonsense that I ate last week, which included a giant, grape pixie stick (thanks, Big H and Phoo).  I’ll discuss the crackers in just a moment.

Y’all, never, and I mean NEVAH, step on a scale after you’ve been on vacation for a week.  It’s a disturbing thing.  So disturbing to me in fact, that I joined Weight Watchers yesterday and spent what’s left of my weekly allowance (wait, do I have an allowance?) at Publix buying yogurt and granola and dirt-flavored whatnot.  Bleh.  But I only have four more weeks until my next beach vacation, so I must, I must, I must increase my bust try to drop a couple or ten pounds before donning my bathing suit again. 

And speaking of bathing suits?  I somehow left mine at home last week and was forced to spend precious vacation hours and money searching for another one at a Florida mall.  I’m not sure, but I think that I ended up buying a maternity suit.  But it was flow-y and black and covered the vital body parts, so all was well.  And I’m thinking that I’ll start shopping in the maternity section more often.

So, my vacation actually started last Wednesday.  In case you don’t remember, part of my trip involved driving my grandparents back to their Florida home.  And if you’ve read my past stories about them here and here, you know that they are hearing-challenged, driving-challenged, food-challenged, direction-challenged, mail-challenged, and let’s just say intestine-challenged.  Bless their hearts. 

And to give you a brief glimpse into the test of my will, I’ll provide you with a timeline of events that day.  But let me start by saying that the night before we left, we agreed that the next morning Nanny and the Dukester would meet me at a church close to my house at 7:30am (because they don’t know how to get to my house, but they presumably know how to get to the church).  From there, they would follow me back to my house to drop off my car.  It’s basically a straight drive with one RIGHT turn from their house to the church.  So, here’s the timeline of events: 

• 7:00am:  Nanny calls to tell me that they are running about an hour late.  The Dukester is having bathroom “issues.”
• 8:00am:  Nanny calls to tell me that they are leaving their house and will meet me at the church in 20 minutes.
• 8:35am:  They are not at the church.  I am concerned and start driving the route that they would follow to get to the church.
• 8:40am:  Nanny calls my mobile phone to angrily ask where I am because they are at the church waiting on me.  Wha?  Apparently the Dukester told Nanny to make a LEFT turn instead of a RIGHT one, even though we went over explicit directions the night before.  Needless to say, they ended up on the other side of town and had to turn around.  The Dukester blamed Nanny.
• 8:50am:  I return to the church to find Nanny wandering around the graveyard “to see if she knows anyone.”  My grandmother—Social Butterfly to the Dead.     
• 9:00am:  We drop my car at my house, and then leave for Florida in their car.
• 9:45am:  We’ve been on the road for 45 minutes and we must stop for breakfast.  Err.
• 10:15am:  We are again on the road.  But not for long…
• 12:00pm:  We stop at a rest area for a break.  Nanny announces that she had a bowel movement, because, that’s something that we all must know.  She then tries to force crackers and Mountain Dew on the Dukester and me.
• 1:30pm:  We stop at the freakin’ Flying J truckstop for gas because we MUST get gas before we cross over the Florida state line even though we still have half a tank.  The Dukester decides that we will eat at the Flying J country buffet for lunch.  Dee-lish. 
• 2:30pm:  We leave the Flying J.  So far we’ve gone 280 miles in 5 1/2 hours.  Only another 270 miles to go.  We’re moving at warp speed, y’all.
• 3:30pm:  Rest stop.  Nanny tries to force crackers and Mountain Dew on both the Dukester and me.  Again.  She has sweet crackers, peanut butter crackers, chicken-flavored crackers, crackers that she bought at the Flying J, crackers that look like Little Debbie’s snack cakes, everything is a cracker!!  And she is not satisfied until we both have at least one.  And a Mountain Dew.
• 4:30pm:  Nanny announces that her stomach hurts, and that she might have to have another bowel movement.  I’m thinking that it’s probably all of those damned crackers and Mountain Dews.
• 5:00pm:  Rest stop.  More crackers.  More Mountain Dew.  The Dukester asks Nanny, “Baby?  Did you have a bowel movement?”  I look to the heavens and cry with a mouthful of crackers.
• 6:30pm:  Rest stop.  I don’t need to rest.  But I do need to get out of this car and run.  Crackers!  Mountain Dew!  Crackers!
• 7:30pm:  Arrive at Florida home.  FREEDOM!  Do you know how William Wallace’s tortured soul yells ‘Freedom!’ at the end of Braveheart?  That was me when we arrived.  Until I found out that the air-conditioning was not working in their home.  And much like William Wallace, I died. 

Long story short (well, actually I think it’s too late for that), they called someone to fix the air-conditioner problem, and by 9:30pm we were finally cool enough to enjoy a restful sleep.  As for the rest of my vacation, the next day I rented a car and drove to Tampa to my mother’s house to meet GR, Big H, and Phoo for a weekend at the beach and pool.  And that’s just an entirely different story that I don’t have the energy to go into at this point because I am still recovering from the Amaretto Sours and the giant, grape pixie stick.  And maybe the crackers.