Why is it?

I had 12 L-O-N-G hours to ponder life on our trip home yesterday,

and the question I kept coming back to?

Why is it...

...that the cars in my lane are creeping along at a snail's pace while the cars in the lane next to mine are flying by at 90 m.p.h.? And why is it that if I switch lanes the new lane will come to a grinding halt?

...that at the end of a normal day I'll be bursting with fun stories and tidbits to share with my hubby over a glass of wine in the evening. Sometimes before I fall asleep I'll think of just one more thing I wanted to say. I know inside his head there are moments when he's screaming, "for-the-love-of-God, woman! Shut... UP!" So why, after two short hours in the car, am I out of stuff to talk about? I can talk 'til your ears bleed. How could this happen?!

...that kids announce they have to go potty at the exact moment you are whizzing (pun completely intended. And yes, I am that good) past the exit for the Rest Stop that you know has sparkling, clean pottys. And for that matter, why is it there are roughly 347,931 well-maintained and clean restrooms between Wake Forest, NC and Jupiter, FL, and we manage to hit the 5 that are Superfund toxic waste sites?

...that the little bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body lotion they give you at hotels look exactly the same? And why did I end up with body lotion in my hair and conditioner on my legs? The oddest thing is that my hair looked pretty good that night. My legs were a different story. Kinda gummy.

...that my daughter is asking me if playing hooky is what hookers do? Took me a moment to get my head around that one. And where did she hear about hookers in the first place?

Photo from http://www.oddee.com/

...that synchronizing the bladder function of 6 Belinskis is as complicated as facilitating world peace? Both have been tried ad nauseam, neither has actually been accomplished.

...that there comes an infernal stench from outside the the minivan at the exact moment we pass a billboard imploring us to breathe deeply of the fresh, local air? Um, yeah. Thanks. That's at least a hundred brain cells that I'm not getting back.

...that 12 hours in the car makes me feel really close to my family (and I truly mean that) even though there isn't a lot of deep conversation. In five years will they still want to be trapped in this tin can with me?

...that they have to put billboards like this

all over the interstate. I mean seriously, if you're not gettin' any at home maybe you should step away from the girlie spots, stop tweakin' your twinkie, and get a clue. Enough said.

...that I can't do a back handspring anymore, but I can contort myself into a shape that's a fraction of my regular size, crawl over 2 rows of seats in a car roaring down the freeway at 70+ m.p.h. while clutching my Diet Coke, a notebook, and a Nintendo DS, and make it safely to the rear of the bus without getting tangled in any cords from the DVD players or spilling a single drop of the nectar of the gods my Diet Coke? And for the record, I had to go over those DVD players, folks and there's only about 2 feet of clearance. I deserve a spot in the record books for that little maneuver.

...that I'm so into this blog post I'm unbuckled and turned turned around backwards trying to take a picture of the inside of the van?

...that at least once per day every day of vacation I wished that it would never end, and yet the moment I walk through our front door there's no place in the world I'd rather be?

It's good to be home.