Tomorrow my husband and I leave for a romantic interlude in the lushly sensual city of New Orleans. We have been planning this little get away for months and finally the day has almost arrived for us to leave.
We get two weeks about every six months to visit with each other as he works overseas with a large and wholly unpopular Department of Defense contracting firm.
We make the most of our time. Since the entire first week was devoted to doctor and dentist visits, we are especially looking forward to this trip.
We leave tomorrow morning at 0600 hours, with our first trip being to Outpatient Surgery at South Georgia Medical Center. My husband is having a mild and hopefully unpainful procedure done and then he can sleep it off in the car while I drive us to Louisiana.
I brought extra drugs in case he is uncomfortable, a bag for potential vomiting, a pillow, and luckily he can field dress himself in case of any open wounds. If I have to drive him all the way to the French Quarter trailing tubes and IV bags, then so be it. We are having our first vacation as a married couple with NO children coming.
I'm not unsympathetic to physical distress, I'm just on a rigid travel schedule. I plan vacations like generals plan invasions. Every day, every hour is covered. All restaurant reservations are made, menus are printed out, activities planned, and wardrobes coordinated.
You have to understand that in my formative years there were no rest stops on vacations. You got in the car and didn't stop until you reached your destination. There was no food, drink, urination, or any other unnecessary delays in travel allowed.
I think it's because my ancestors spent so much time fleeing various countries. Somewhere in our DNA is the residual genetic memory of all the times we had to pack our shit and run for our lives.
But we made really good time while escaping. The drive from here to New Orleans is seven hours. I plan to do it in five. If you were going to be on I-10 tomorrow, I suggest you find an alternate route during daylight hours.
Plus we packed everything we own. We may not get back here and need to plan ahead. Looking at my luggage, my husband nervously asked me if we were moving and I hadn't mentioned it to him yet. He also asked me how many pairs of boxers he needed to bring. His logical brain told him that we would be there for four days, but his eyes watched me pack twelve pairs of shoes and five handbags. I'm planning at least three ensembles a day and advised him to plan the same; including all new undergarments with each change of clothes.
My mom, being a veteran refugee style traveler, mentioned that I should put a towel down on his side of the car just in case and perhaps get him an adult diaper for the trip.
She thinks of everything, plus has had the same procedure done. She said she barely made it home and that was a short drive. He'll be fine. Yesterday he had a wisdom tooth pulled, a new crown, a filling, and his teeth cleaned and went on a job interview right afterward.
His stitches busted today while we were driving back from our Boot Camp/Spin class and he had to staunch the bleeding with a piece of paper we had in the dash of the car.
What a bad ass. No wonder we ended up together.
I hope he's better by 19:30 tomorrow evening. We have dinner reservations at the first of our favorite New Orleans restaurants, Broussards.
Check back with me. We will be blogging from the road. I hope his hands are steady enough to hold the camera by mid-afternoon.
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