My Whirlwind Weekend

My oldest daughter Elizabeth moved to Gunnison,Colorado a month ago and we made a quick trip out this past weekend to deliver more of her things.  Gunnison is near Crested Butte which is near . . . nothing.  Look on the map at southwest Colorado.  Look for a large area labeled 'middle of nowhere'.  That should give you a pretty good idea of where Gunnison is.  A mere 13 hours away.  We left Saturday afternoon at 4:30 p.m. and drove straight through, arriving around 8:00 a.m. Sunday.  I know what you're thinking:  Renee is really bad at math because that is a little more than 13 hours.  Yessiree, I have a story for you.  

My husband, the steering wheel control freak' drove, I was shotgun and my second-born favorite daughter, Traci, was trapped in the back with the ever-whining wiener dog.  Jim:  I can drive the whole way.  I took a nap this morning and I am fresh as a daisy and ready to go.  Traci:  Good because I stayed out waaay too late last night and had one too many beverages and I am far from fresh as a daisy.  Me:  Perfect.  I have two headlamps in the car and I can knit on the June Knitted Together KAL 'til my fingers fall off.  Wiener Dog:  Did anyone bring the Beggin' Strips??? 

We drove through Iowa sprinkles as I watched gently rolling hills starting to turn green.  Once we hit Nebraska (could it be any flatter?) we drove through a spectacular lightening show and listened to the radio blare out tornado warning alerts through the middle of all the good songs.  I looked at Jim.  He looked at me.  Jim:  I've got this.  Me:  That last shot of lightening was so close that I don't think I'll have to highlight my hair again for the next three years.  We hit eastern Colorado and I got the answer to my 'could Nebraska be any flatter' question - yes it could be flatter and here it is.  Once we got to Denver the freezing rain kicked in and we drove for an hour at 20 mph.  The only other vehicles on the highway were snowplows and the cars in the ditches.  Three hours later we are zipping along when Jim looks at me.  I look at Jim.  Jim:  I can't make it any further.  You're going to have to spell me.  Me:  Sure!  Me thinking:  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  THE MOUNTAIN PASS IS COMING UP!! YOU WANT ME TO DRIVE THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN PASS??!!  Jim:  You will be fine.  The weather is great.  Fifteen minutes later we hit the flashing sign indicating we are now driving through Monarch Mountain Pass - Travel Not Recommended.  I look at Jim sleeping.  I look at Traci pretending to sleep.  I look at wiener dog and see this thought cross her little mind:  Did you seriously forget to pack the Beggin' Strips?  I was on my own, flying solo.  So I put the death grip on the steering wheel, squared my shoulders and crawled through the pass.  On-coming drivers waved.  I waved back but was internally screaming, "STOP LOOKING AT ME!!"  Once we got to our destination, Elizabeth asked how the pass was.  Before I could even open my mouth Jim and Traci gave a weather report that sounded like we had just traveled through paradise.  What really happened is that I drove through a blizzard!  It was THE worst blizzard on record!!  Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.  

We spent Sunday with Elizabeth and the boyfriend, henceforth referred to as Christopher.  Monday morning we got up, said our goodbyes and headed to the Gunnison Coffee Company for the best cup of coffee on the face of the earth.  When we explained why we were in Gunni, our server asked how long we would be staying while delivering 'stuff' to our daughter.  Server:  Wow!  That must be some pretty important stuff!  Me:  Not really.  As a matter of fact it was mostly hand-me-down furniture.  Me thinking:  But it was sure great to see my first-born working somewhere that makes her happy, in a place that makes her happy and living with her love, Christopher, who makes her happy.  I'm not going to look over my shoulder at the mirror to check, but I'm pretty sure my behind is in the shape of a car seat.  And I would do it all over again for my first-born favorite daughter.  Just not this next weekend . . . 

Renee