Just Another Day

For CHARDONNAY BRETT

As with most things it started with a naive innocence. Enough time passes and the pain is forgotten. A year later and you think that wasn’t so bad. Let’s do it again!

What am I talking about? I am talking about the annual Noyes Cousin Trip™. An annual trip back to my homeland of Yakima, WA. It lies in a picturesque valley. Surrounded by unpretentious wineries, which pampers its fruit like its own babies.  

Hi! I'm Moira Rose, and if you like fruit wine as much as I do, then you'll appreciate the craftsmanship and quality of a local vintner who brings the muskmelon goodness to his oak Chardonnay and the dazzling peach crabapple to his Riesling Rioja. Come taste the difference good fruit can make in your wine. 

To be fair, Columbia Valley has exceptional wine made from grapes. It is the other stuff that leaves something to be desired. I could do without the extreme gang violence and cringe worthy redneck culture. The rednecks fancy themselves as the good guys. They are only building a militia to protect themselves from the bad guys. I do not agree. I guess that is part of the reason I do not live there.

The trip to Washington is becoming a tradition. The wife gets a break. The house gets a break. The grass starts to grow back. The ecosystem that is my life, resets itself. My father gets to see his favorite grandchild. Nine out of ten dentists recommend it.

In this scenario I  am the last dentist. I do not recommend it. I don’t recommend it because it is like a long baseball road trip. It's twenty plus activities in ten days on the opponent’s home field. Every home field advantage is taken away. The chances of victory are low but the expectations are high. I will be on duty in some capacity for the next 240 hours.

My father and my niece plan a series of activities, that will break you. They want to make sure Davis gets to do every single activity they do within a calendar year within a week. It has a naive innocence that I can appreciate. The intentions are good but unrealistic. I will be in charge of picking up the pieces. I will be in pieces.

The journey starts with a five a.m. alarm clock. I awake from a dream in a deep daze. I gather my things and stumble into the car. The wife takes care of everything else. She is super motivated to get us out of the house. I am dragging my feet. My anxiety is high. I used to love to travel. Traveling with a child is a special place in The Good Place. It's just another day for  Chardonnay Brett.

The plane ride is fine until it is not. Now, my well behaved child wants to be in Seattle. Veruca wants it now! To this point he has been so good. I have enjoyed every moment with him. That is over.

Davis is done! Land the plane! I confer with the Southwest App. It tells me we have one and a half hours ahead. I do everything in my power to entertain him. The lovely stewardess gives him three rounds of pretzels and a pilot's airplane wing. It takes him about a minute to lose these wings between the seats. They are gone forever and it is somehow my fault.

The lovely stewardess gives him another wing and another bag of pretzels. Davis proceeds to punch me in the arm. I look at him and say, "Is that all you've got?" Our family trip has digressed into Fight Club. Would someone please land this plane?

Finally, we land in Seattle. It is a gorgeous day. It is the type of day that makes you want to move to Seattle. Unfortunately, they have about nine of these days a year. You would be a fool to pack up and move here. We grab our bags and wait for my father to do one more loop.

To no one's surprise he has been given a warning for parking in a loading zone. This will be the first of many interactions with authorities on this trip. It is becoming clear where Anarchist Brett originated from.

We jump into his GMC Acadia and off to the Pacific Science Center. We are greeted by my two nieces who are five and seven years old. They are full of energy and excitement. They can’t wait to see Davis. Unfortunately, my father doesn’t know how to get to the Science Center. We can’t get the address into the GPS fast enough. We miss our exit.

Time to pivot. Hey kids, we are going to McDonald’s for lunch. This buys us time to figure out where we are going and how the car's GPS works. The kids make a new friend but we have no time for new friends. We must get back on the road.

The kids are strapped into their booster seats. We manage to figure out how to use the car’s GPS. We are back on the road. The cousins see each other once a year, yet somehow they are thick as thieves. It is alarming how well they get along. It is going to be us vs them. 

In no particular order we bee-bop through the museum. First, butterflies. Of course the children are doing everything they have been instructed not to do. It is humid and I am swimming through a sea of children from  the Boys and Girls Club. It is a special place located in The Good Place.

Finally, we exit. The children have little interest in learning. They go to an area designed for toddlers and build a fort. Maybe they want to go back to a simpler time. This goes on for approximately an eternity. When they are finally bored with that, we go onto the legos. 

Davis, Dad and my oldest niece go to work on building lego trees. My youngest niece and I go to work on cleaning up and sorting the legos into color coated containers. It was at that moment I realized that we have a touch of the OCD.

The afternoon would continue on like this. All I could think about was how bad traffic would be if we hit rush hour. To my delight we missed the afternoon showing of the laser show. This was a great excuse to get out of dodge. 

To our dismay the credit card processor is not working. We are trapped. Within minutes the children go full caveman. They are trying to break the exit barrier. The helpline tells us it will get back to us within twenty-four hours. 

Great, we are stuck! My father decides to take a drive around the garage to see if there is another exit. To his surprise and delight there is. The other exit is wide open. To his delight, parking is free today. He pulls around the corner. We are all relieved that we do not have to spend a night in a parking garage. 

The children jump into the car and buckle themselves in. These children are starting to become capable, competent human beings. They open up a cooler full of snacks and distribute them. My nieces seem to have a system.

Off to Eastern Washington we go! One by one the children pass out. It is quiet for the first time in a long time. I see the hills that surround my childhood home off in the distance. Nostalgia kicks in and I am ready to move back. This is the most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen.

It has been a long day and we are only half way home. We exit the highway and go into a small town diner. The children awake and run in for a much needed potty break. My father runs after them.

The car is unlocked with everything I need for the trip in it. This takes priority over chasing children. They are society's problem for the moment. 

With a secure car, I walk into the diner. I see a bewildered hostess. I am flabbergasted. I do not know what to say. In an absence of coherent thought I say, “I am with the monkeys that ran through. We will be back for a table in a moment.”

This does not help her bewilderment. We usher our clan of monkeys back to the front. The young hostess rolls her eyes and reluctantly finds us a table. The circus can now begin.

A surly waitress greets us. She lets us know that there are only two manicotti dishes left in the restaurant. If we want one, we must speak now! My father seizes the opportunity. I pass, in favor of the fish and chips. To Davis’s delight they have a pasta dish on the kids menu.

As it turns out, the food is quite good. Everything is made from scratch. Everything is made with love. It is a time capsule of a foregone time. A time when people took pride in their craft. As delightful as this moment is, we cannot stay. These monkeys are getting restless.  I hand the waitress my credit card and we are out the door.

Finally, we arrive at our destination. The children jump out rested and ready to go. I am over-stimulated. I am exhausted. I want these people to leave me alone. I sink into the couch and go into my own world for a moment.

I am jarred back into reality. It is time to start preparing the children for bedtime. In my naive innocence , I try to get them all to sleep together in the guest bedroom. This works for about twenty minutes.

They come bursting out. The girls want to sleep with grandma. Davis wants to sleep with me. This means that no one will be sleeping well tonight. I have no energy to fight this.

We have a big day tomorrow. We are going camping and I am in charge of the food. I should be prepping tonight but there is nothing left in the tank. It will be tomorrow's problem. Its just another day for Chardonnay Brett

Cheers,

Chardonnay Brett