On Saturday, we gave the dogs a last snuggle, threw our bags into the back of the car and headed for Ohio.

Given that I am not partial to road trips it may seem strange that we opted to drive to my niece?s college graduation instead of fly. However, the day I needed to buy airplane tickets, I had just come back from Seattle and could not bring myself to commit to more quality interaction with airport security.

So I called T.

Me: Wah wah. Am spoiled creature. Don?t want to fly.

T: Excellent. Let?s take the Jetta for a spin.

He had just purchased a diesel VW Jetta and wanted to prove out its fabulous gas mileage. Also? He loves road trips.

And so. All was well--except as we pulled down our mile long, dirt/gravel drive we noticed something wet falling from the sky.

T: Hmm. *worried*

Me: Tra la la.

We zipped across Massachusetts and New York clocking a fan-TAB-ulous 50 miles to the gallon. At about 9 pm we stopped in DePew, NY (outside of Buffalo) booked a room and headed across the street to a Cracker Barrel restaurant. Who knew? Cheese companies have restaurants?

I had never seen one before. I guess they are a chain from the South offering up all-day breakfast, biscuits and gravy, bacon, bacon and more bacon, etc. Even our waitress had a southern accent which lead to yet another occasion for my husband to perform his strange behavior.

Waitress: Hi there, folks. How y?all doing? Something to drink?

T: Yes MAY?am, TAY sweet.

Me: *groaning*

Waitress walks away.

Me: You couldn't simply ask for an ice tea? Why does your speech change if someone talks to you in an accent? When you talk with Indians your head bobs side to side, you shout and speak in broken, Indian-accented English.

T: I know. Strange. But I can control it. I can stop it anytime I want.

Waitress: How's everything over here?

T: Oh mighty fine. MAH-TEE FAHN.

Me: *gives up*

Sunday we powered down to the lovely town of Wooster where my family was gathered for the kind of edgy, somewhat hyper-charged gathering a group of genetically linked Type A personalities tend to have.

And, that?s all I?m gonna say about that.

Best part of the ass-numbing ceremony? Bagpipes! Bagpipes! The Fighting Scots are the mascot and so leading the procession was a fine group of pipers in yellow and black tartans. Loved it.

But T and I were quite anxious by Monday morning as we had received reports from our house-sitters that things were, hmm, how shall I say, rather distressing: seven inches of rain had fallen on Saturday alone. That?s 3 more than fell last October when we had the crazy road-breaking day of 4 inches in 24 hours.

And, it was still raining.

So the minute my niece cleared the dais with a roll of parchment in her sweaty hand, we blew kisses and dashed home.

During the 13 hour return trip we changed the lyrics to The Pretenders? song:

We came back from Ohio
But our driveway was gone . . .

Arrived home at 1 am. We knew we couldn?t make it in with the Jetta, so we parked it on the side, grabbed just what we needed?a flashlight each?and walked in.

It was pitch dark, but from what we could see, the washout wasn?t too terrible. The roar of the water, though?man?sounded like I was next to Niagra Falls.

The next day?T did some work with the tractor.

His business card now reads: programmer, web designer, sculptor, master carpenter, poet, dog whisperer, junior electrician, amateur mason, carrom champion and road engineer (specializing in water damage prevention and repair).

Honestly.

When I came in this morning and saw the comments?especially Sheryl?s?my heart just swelled like, um, like a, oh you know LIKE A FUCKING OVERFLOWING RIVERBED.

All is well. The boys and I are dry.

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