Alas, Poor Omar!
So we started on our journey. The first leg of our trip took us into Wyoming. We arrived at a motel on the west side of the state at about 5 or 6 p.m. I would say that it was uneventful--if my bra hadn't disappeared. We thoroughly searched our motel room; under the beds, in the closet, in the dresser and night-stand, in the windowsill, in the shower, behind the toilet . . . Then we went out and searched the car, and under the car, and our path to and from the car. It was just totally gone! Weird. I made the rest of the week-long trip as a liberated woman--which I did not enjoy. I wanted to stop at a mall, or even a K-mart somewhere (we had plenty of opportunities) but those men I was driving with didn't want to take the extra time. Hmph!
We drove across Wyoming, through Nebraska, Iowa, part of Indiana, Illinois, some of Missouri, Kentucky and right smack into the middle of Tennessee. The landscape changed dramatically; instead of being surrounded by mountains we could see the horizon all around us. Suddenly it got humid, and the trees got bigger; we crossed the Mississippi River; and we saw for ourselves that Tennessee might really be the "greenest state in the land of the free." We drove from Monday, August 7th through Friday, August 11th; and with each day and each state that we passed through, our springs wound tighter and tighter. What were we heading into?
Jason, Bruce and Michael pose in a Superman cut-out
at a gas station in Metropolis, IL
at a gas station in Metropolis, IL
Peter wanted to hurry and get us there and settled--although settled into what, I didn't know. So as time went by he pushed us to drive later and later into the night. On Thursday night we passed through the last town around 9:30 pm. I wanted to stop and get the kids--and myself-- to bed, but Peter kept going. Finally, around 11 pm, we were able to let him know that we wanted to stop (this was before cell-phones, too) and he pulled into this little hole-in-the-wall motel in the middle of nowhere. It was a tiny, old place; I was surprised to see a radiator-type heater next to the bed, and horrified to see cockroaches on the walls. But it was stay there, or drive for several more hours to find another place. What in the heck were we doing?!
We got to Murfreesboro, TN late Friday afternoon, arriving on the hottest --record hot-- day of the year. We drove through town to find the university; on the way to MTSU we saw the LDS church.
At last! Something that resembled home. We drove around campus a bit, but were too late to talk to anyone so we went to find a place to stay the night. By the time we got checked into a Motel 6, I was a basket-case. So I sat in the motel room with Peter and the kids, and tried to hold in my agitation, while Bruce went out to the truck to get some of our things. At that point it looked like we might be staying at the Motel 6 indefinitely.
Well Bruce was taking such a loooooong time just to bring some clothes in that I finally went out to see what he was doing. And there he was, standing by the truck and holding our giant pickle jar with Omar
floating in it, dead. We had taken him into our motel rooms every night of the trip, but forgot him in the truck on that hot, hot day. We had cooked him to death. Added to the strain of the past week, and the enormity of this move--it was just too much to bear. Bruce and I looked at that fish and bawled our eyes out.
Back in our room, I wanted to call my parents or Melanie for some comfort but they were gone, still vacationing. So I called the Relief Society president, Dorothy Broeringmeyer. She was very nice, and told me to take it easy that night, and invited us to dinner the next day. We went for a dip in the motel's pool, had some dinner and went to bed. The next morning I discovered that there were fleas in my bed; I hardly cared any more.
But Dorothy had arranged for some men in the ward to come Saturday morning and help us unload our stuff from the truck into a storage unit. She was very kind and encouraging at dinner that night, and she invited us to sing with the ward choir the next day. For just one minute I began to feel a tiny, little, wee bit better.
We got to Murfreesboro, TN late Friday afternoon, arriving on the hottest --record hot-- day of the year. We drove through town to find the university; on the way to MTSU we saw the LDS church.At last! Something that resembled home. We drove around campus a bit, but were too late to talk to anyone so we went to find a place to stay the night. By the time we got checked into a Motel 6, I was a basket-case. So I sat in the motel room with Peter and the kids, and tried to hold in my agitation, while Bruce went out to the truck to get some of our things. At that point it looked like we might be staying at the Motel 6 indefinitely.
Well Bruce was taking such a loooooong time just to bring some clothes in that I finally went out to see what he was doing. And there he was, standing by the truck and holding our giant pickle jar with Omar
floating in it, dead. We had taken him into our motel rooms every night of the trip, but forgot him in the truck on that hot, hot day. We had cooked him to death. Added to the strain of the past week, and the enormity of this move--it was just too much to bear. Bruce and I looked at that fish and bawled our eyes out.Back in our room, I wanted to call my parents or Melanie for some comfort but they were gone, still vacationing. So I called the Relief Society president, Dorothy Broeringmeyer. She was very nice, and told me to take it easy that night, and invited us to dinner the next day. We went for a dip in the motel's pool, had some dinner and went to bed. The next morning I discovered that there were fleas in my bed; I hardly cared any more.
But Dorothy had arranged for some men in the ward to come Saturday morning and help us unload our stuff from the truck into a storage unit. She was very kind and encouraging at dinner that night, and she invited us to sing with the ward choir the next day. For just one minute I began to feel a tiny, little, wee bit better.
. . . more to come
3 comments:
This was a tough trip--it felt like an unpleasant dream. But I was determined to make it happen.
Loralee, I had forgotten the Mystery of the Bassiere Snatcher! If you keep your sense of humor, it makes the whole trip less tragic to have such a ridiculous thing happen. I honestly don't have any memory of anything concerning your, um, "liberation" after the Wyoming motel search. I would have stopped that morning to get you a new one.
Must've been Peter's fault.
When I think of Omar, I still cry.
poor fish!
i like animals. i just hope Omar isn't mad at you. other wise he might not be let into fishy heaven. ;)
What a very scary thing to do and to lose your fish too!
Post a Comment