Oh, the humanity!

Did everyone in the US have a nice Thanksgiving? We did. After it was all over, including Not-a-Bub having his first sleepover(!), we headed back to The City on Sunday. I was in a rush. I had a plan. My plan was to wake up, load the car, pick up Not-a-Bub at his friend's house, then drive back up the state of California. The Man had a different plan, which makes sense, because we wake up at different times. His plan was as follows: wake up, have coffee, pick up Not-a-Bub, stop by Costco to look at a ski helmet for himself, come home, have lunch, load up the car, then leave. He did not share my sense of urgency. And since I didn't want him sleep-deprived when he would be doing the driving (I always offer to drive a shift and he always declines; he knows I prefer not to, and I would, but I still offer because I know it's not his favorite thing to do either), I let him sleep. So we followed his plan.

At Costco The Man also ended up buying the ski goggles that were next to the helmets and gloves. We already bought goggles last season (it was so necessary what with the glare) when we were in Tahoe, but he thought these were so nice he bought them as well. When we finally got home (more on that in a bit), we compared and the Costco ones actually fit my face better than the special women's pair I bought last season that were supposed to fit my face. I have very little nose bridge, so the ski shop lady's advice was to cut a piece of foam (which she threw in, gratis) to fit the gap. I still haven't done that. The gap is so large I can fit a finger up it, with room to spare. And I can't return that pair anymore, so I suppose it will be saved for Princess when she gets a bit bigger. But these are the Costco goggles:

That's right. My new bolle goggles will match my new bolle helmet. I'll match. But never fear: my bright blue The North Face ski jacket will not match my black Patagonia ski pants.

As I was saying, we left after lunch on Sunday. And that was a mistake. Because after five hours, we'd only gone an average of 23 miles per hour. The fastest part was probably driving through LA, which if you've ever done this trip, you know is typically the slowest part. It was a line of red tail lights as far as the eye could see, complemented on the other side by a line of white headlights. On I-5 it was a parking lot of bumper-to-bumper, stop-and-go traffic, and then our GPS asked us this:

We had been going so slow for so long, it offered to switch to Pedestrian mode! Somewhere near Bakersfield we gave up and found a motel to check into. The next day, we drove and drove and drove, thankful, at least, that we were moving. We got back to the City in time for the kids' ballet classes, did grocery shopping, laundry, etc. and now everything is more or less back to normal. However, we will probably NEVER drive such a distance on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend ever again.