The Ladies Room with Lolis

A Good Time Road Trip

One of my fondest memories of childhood was making our annual family trek from Mexico City to Corpus Christi for the summer.  My mother packed all our suitcases days before we left, always leaving them open until the last minute just in case she needed to add something forgotten.  We always went to sleep early the night before departure with my Fathers promise that we would leave promptly at 8AM.  None of us slept much, we were so excited, which probably accounted for the fact that we never left before 11 AM.  That or maybe because my Father had to pack the station wagon in just the right way.  We all stood around, my Mom, my three brothers, my sister and two miniature poodles, while we watched him load each suitcase onto the roof of the car  and pack each bundle in just the right space. 

My father was an engineer and never was this most evident than in his planning for our trips.  The precise packing, the endless discussion of the route (although there was only one highway to take from the City to the border), the plans for lunch and dinner at specific times and places, and of course, the all important decision of where to stay.  We had three choices: Matehuala, Saltillo, or Monterrey.  We had to break up the trip because we never drove at night: that is when the buses appeared in droves and driving behind them in the mountains was not only frustrating but treacherous.  So we had to make good time to get to where we were staying.    This became a familiar refrain.  From the time we were tiny we learned to ask “Daddy are we making good time?  It also led to a lifelong urge to just get there and never stop for anything but gas.  Even potty breaks were scheduled around gas stops.  Pity the fool who drank a coke too early in the game-that kid was destined to painfully “hold it” until we reached E on the gas gage.

In an endless trip with no DVDs or ipods or video games or laptops to ease the burden, we made up games to pass the time.  Passing cars was a favorite.  The highway was two lanes in many stretches and in order to make that precious "good time", we had to maintain a certain speed.  If a car got in our way, my Dad went around it.  Simple right?  Wrong.  Said car inevitably sped up as my father jammed the accelerator and another car inevitably appeared coming from the other direction.  My Mom would grab the dash, the kids would yell “Faster, Daddy, Faster” and we would zip into place moments before a head-on collision.  Loads of fun.

We all rode around without seat belts in those days and since second hand smoke wasn’t even invented then, my father smoked cigars with all the windows rolled up to prevent our lungs from filling with others cars exhaust.  Since it was June and we were headed to Texas, my Father had purchased a car with air conditioning units.  Besides the vents in front, a long vent type unit was mounted on the floor behind the front seats.  The air that came from it was lukewarm at best and seemed to dissipate when hitting the middle row passengers.  The poor fools who sat in the back of the wagon didn’t get a whisper of air.  Therefore the inevitable game “where to sit“.  My brother Mike claimed to get car sick-I think he invented this lame excuse so he could always sit in the front between my parents and get the full benefit of refrigerated air.  The rest of us fought it out for the two choice seats by the windows directly in front of the back vents.  My station in life guaranteed nothing.  As the eldest I was used to getting my way.  But when it came to car placement my siblings were unusually tenacious.  Usually we took turns, but often one of us invented a stomach ache (for some reason sitting in the way back made it worse)  or other mysterious ailment that made it necessary to occupy the prized seat.  Mother tried to be fair, but with five equally stubborn and creative kids it always turned into a free for all.  One morning, we woke to find my little sister had climbed into the car at first light, claiming her spot while we slept.

Arrival in the US meant two things-staying at a motel which for some reason we thought was so cool, and eating at McDonalds.  There was one two miles inland from the border and it was always the first place we stopped when we crossed into the US.

The inevitable question when we finally arrived at our destination and for some reason this was sooooo important…."Daddy, did we make good time"?

I have taken many road trips with my husband as an adult and have actually learned to enjoy the road.  I was shocked to learn on our first trip together that it is permitted to stop before you hit empty.  We were driving down the highway and I saw a marker that indicated some interesting historical place. Loving history and tacky tourist-trap gift shops, I sighed and longingly spoke of how "maybe one-day".....  My husband looked at me, smiled and shook me to the core;  "No time like the present" he said as he exited the highway. How was this possible?  How were we going to get to our destination “in good time“?!

Today the road affords me the luxury of dropping out, tuning out, and unplugging.  It is a mind numbing, calming exercise in the practice of living in the now.  And it doesn't matter anymore if we get there in good time.  There are just too many interesting things to see and do on the road to getting there.

            

When a Man Cheats: should she stay or should she go?

The news about the affair of John Edwards has been a hot topic of discussion lately.  The emotions have ranged from total indifference to outright anger.  I myself reacted with frustration that once again a man allowed his hormones to get the best of him and hurt his wife and children.  I just don’t get it.  When so much is at stake, why do you sleep with another woman?!  Where is love, control, honor, discipline?  And I simply have no patience for a woman who knowingly sleeps with another woman’s husband.  So the guy is a scumbag and the mistress not much better…..But what about the wife?  What should Elizabeth do?

Infidelity is nothing new.  I myself had a front row seat to the infidelities in a few of my friends marriages.  I learned then never to judge what a woman does when she discovers a husbands affairs.  I had a friend who chose to stay and try to save her 20 year marriage; another who went on a mind-blowing shopping orgy; and another who finally walked out and never looked back.  All of these women suffered over their decision and all of them made the right choice-for them.  I myself don’t know what I would do.  My husband was in the NFL for 12 years and always had access to groupies.  He made a conscious choice not to go there.  I am sure he was sorely tempted, but he took his marriage vows seriously and would have left me before becoming involved with someone else.  So I was lucky.  But what if he had slept with one of those available women?  My response would probably have been different pre or post children.  I think I would have tried to save my marriage if
my little ones were involved.  Alone?  I would have kicked him to the curb!

Elizabeth Edwards has a terminal illness and she has small children.  She knows that she will not see her children grow up.  She knows that her husband will raise them without her, so that has to play a big part in her decision.  But the cost for her either way is huge.  And she is paying it on a national stage.  This makes me feel so much sadness for her.  Whatever she does I pray she will be happy.  Whatever she does, I pray her husband will be honorable from now on.  Whatever she does, we must not judge her.  The decision is private and hers alone to make.