Road Trip

Please keep your hands and arms inside of the emotional rollercoaster at all times.

On Thursday of last week I packed my children into the car and left for St. George, leaving DJ waving pathetically in my rear view mirror. I wept. It was an emotional parting. After I was out of sight DJ began inflating his float tube, sorting through his tackle box, popping microwave popcorn, and taking up the entire bed.

The next morning I was on I-70 west of Denver when DJ called saying that his Grandpa Mendel had passed away the previous night. I can't try to be funny about the passing of Grandpa Mendel. Who will fill my children with cheese and crackers (but mostly cheese) every Sunday afternoon when we visit? Who will DJ call when he sees a good deal on a camper/chainsaw/diesel/ice auger/high boy jack? Who will give me a Costco-sized bottle of A-1 sauce every year for Christmas? Who will finish Grandma Marilyn's sentences? Who will fill Grandpa Mendel's shoes?

No one.

DJ flew to Utah immediately, almost beating me there. We attended the viewing on Saturday morning. The funeral was on Wednesday. I got to spend a few days hanging out with my awesome aunts-in-law. (I'm still waiting for my Scrabble rematch, by the way.)

Then we drove to Lake Powell for my sister Lisa's long-awaited wedding.

The setting was beautiful.

It rained and we ran under the tent.

This kiss was a long time comin'. We're talking twelve years comin', peops. We're talking Jim and Lisa have been together since before American Idol. Before they started putting zipper tops on the brown sugar and bagged cereals. Before Priuses. Before George W. Bush. Lisa and Jim have been together since the Clinton administration, people.

Lisa looked absolutely beautiful.

Macey got all mad at me for making her get out from under the table.

And the next day we went to the beach at Lone Rock so that we could get sand in all of our crevices. (Speaking of crevices: Carrie, if you ever read my blog you would send me a bouquet of roses for photoshopping your exposed crevice. Look at that craftsmanship! You can hardly tell there was once a comically exposed crevice in that very site. You can also barely tell that DJ was wearing those ridiculous silver spaceman sunglasses that someone left in his van.)

That night my dad took my sisters and I on a boat ride that caused massive amounts of family drama. This is us before the boat ride drama doo doo hit the fan. After it hit the fan, DJ and drove back toward Minneapolis to avoid any of the doo doo splattering on our windshield.

We stopped in Nebraska to sleep at Motel 6, where the girl at the front desk informed us that there was a tornado warning in effect. "If you hear the siren," she said cheerfully, "come downstairs and we'll all get in the basement. No biggie."

I was totally excited to see a tornado. I couldn't sleep at all because I was hoping to see one. I was also excited because I had a bunch of tornado jokes I was prepared to crack in the basement. It was like waiting for Santa Claus. But, just like Santa, the tornadoes eluded me.

The next morning we pressed on toward Minneapolis. Olivia threw up in the back seat of the car and it was gross. Then we got home. The end.

Please remain seated until your emotional rollercoaster ride comes to a complete stop. Permanaced sentados, por favor.