I hate driving! Hate it! Hate it! So today, I am driving two hours into Los Angeles to pick up my daughter from her dad’s house. This drive is two hours in the polar opposite direction of where I should be heading: San Diego. Talk about the scenic route. And quite honestly, I hate driving through L.A., there is a reason I left it, and most of that stems from the rogue freeways that turn me into a complete Dr. Jekyl, and Mrs. Hyde your kids because some not so PG words may come from my mouth. Not a proud thing, but still the truer version. Where does road rage stem from? Driving in L.A.
So, pick up my daughter TWO HOURS from home, then drive in the exact opposite direction for three – fours hours (depending on Orange County traffic) into San Diego where I will inevitably shake it off. Imagine a dog shaking it off … that’s this gal in five to six hours. Couple a 3 – 4 hour drive with endless Taylor Swift songs of heartbreak, loneliness, and never ever get back together (like ever), while Spongebob plays on the mini screen inside my ever so awesome mommy van, and after I do my best impression of shaking off like a soaked dog, I may have to take up drinking.
So why am I doing all this? Gluten for punishment? Nah, I save that for work (oh, yeah, vomit spewed all over my pristine body last night and I went back for more=gluten for punishment). No, the reason for the drive into San Diego is to attend a book club meeting of guys and gals who chose my book for February. I’m super excited! Like super. And besides all that, I get to see my paternal side of my family, which I met ten years ago, then lost contact after I high tailed it out of Los Angeles and lost my phone book. Gawd, do you all remember phone books? Thank goodness for cellphones, we’ll never lose numbers anymore! eh hem, that was sarcasm.
So, my bags are packed and I’m leaving! Goodbye high desert, hello coastal community. Man, I want to surf so bad. Okay, I’ve procrastinated this drive long enough. Someone remind me that when I’m rich and famous I want a chauffeur. Oh, and a cook. Maybe a maid. Definitely a pool boy!
Okay, enough insignificant rantings. I’ve procrastinated long enough. And she’s off —
Tania L Ramos, Soon-to-be Famous author