Are you familiar with the song Do You Know the Way To San Jose? I am.  I know the song.  Or rather that annoying lyric to it.  But you want to know the kicker there…apparently no one told me the way HOME from San Jose.  I got home today.  This afternoon.  One official week after BlogHer officially started and I just got home.  (I will pause for the “poor babies” and “b and “there-there’s” now.)

It’s not so much that I got lost.  I had a plan.  There were schedules.  I was taken in like the bum I am and was well taken care of.  First by one of my beautiful partners in crime, Jenny and then by the incomparably awesome Grace (and I am so sneaking Malcolm into my carry-on next time!) But then it seemed as if the travel Never Stopped.  The plane took about 723 hours to get to Houston.  Then I had to drive an hour to my Dad’s house to be accosted by my children.  And still.  Still not home.  But today.  Ahhhh, but today I did get home.  After 6 hours in a car.  With a teen, a tween and a kindergartner.  (Sounds like the set-up to a really bad joke.  Trust me.  There was nothing funny about it.)

I was so very tired.  So. Very. Tired.  Do you want to know what can get your adrenaline pumping like mad?  One of these cars in the picture below pulling up behind you with lights flashing like the 4th of July!



That is Officer Clary.  My son took that picture as we passed because he was bored and taking pictures.  Being the mature mom I am, as soon as the police man pulled behind me with lights and all, I turn to my son with, “What did you do?  I am totally legal!  This must be your fault for taking his picture.” (Therapy in his future.  We saved for it.)

Turns out it is illegal not to have a front licence plate in Texas.  Who knew?  My car is a 1998 and has no bracket for a plate.  I guess I will have to go duct tape one on.  But the conversation with the officer was priceless.

Officer Clary:  “Ma’am, do you know why I pulled you over?”

Me:  “To make me cry because I am tired and want to go home and you feel like being mean?”

OC:  “Well, umm…no, you see you have no front license plate.”

Me:  “Really?  Really that is it?  No. Front. Plate.”

OC:  “Well, yes ma’am.  You need that.”

Me:  “Yeah, okay, I can see that this is an issue of great magnitude, but the problem there is that there is no place to put one.  But really, I will get right on it anyway.”

OC:  “Can I see your driver’s license please?”

[checks it out, sees I am not a wanted fugitive and returns]

OC:  [checking out my loaded to capacity car with children crammed in like pickles in a pickle jar he casually asks me where I am coming from.]

Me:  [I lift my sunglasses to reveal bloodshot eyes with tears in them because he is keeping me from HOME, raccoon black circles under my eyes, wrinkles that were not there 2 weeks ago and a look that says I dare you to mess with me at this moment in time when my face and feet and this puffy and I have PMS!] “Well, California then Houston and now I am trying to go to Dallas and really, I just want a bed.  Are you going to arrest me because a bed to myself and 3 square meals a day brought to me (with no ass water) sounds really nice. 

So, Officer Clary, can you just cuff me now.  I mean, I have been peeing in front of women all weekend. I have groped and been groped and have been surrounded nonstop by 750 women for an intense weekend that started more than a week ago, so none of that prison crap will phase me. And, oh, did I mention I am just so tired!  Bed?  Food?  Cuff me! Please!”

He gave me a warning.  A warning.  With 4 more hours to drive.  No bed.  No cuffs.  I got the raw end of that deal.  I was hoping for sleep.



But alas, I made it home.  HOME.  Where I immediately collapsed on my driveway (cracked and all)….

And gave it a big kiss just to tell home I was happy to be there.

Because did I mention how tired I am?  How much I miss my bed?  I did miss my bed.  Don’t get me wrong.  Jenny is an awesome bedmate, but my home is not trying to kill me like the hotel was (more on THAT later with my recap because the hotel did try to kill me and I have witnesses to it!)

So tell me…did you miss me?  Did ya?  If you met me, did you respect me in the morning?

And if you see officer Clary, tell him that really, all I wanted was a good cuffing and taken to a nice bed.  Not a piece of paper saying, “Keep driving for HOURS and HOURS and you may get home.”

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