On The Road Again OR Herbie Becomes a Man

We spent this weekend at Great Wolf Lodge in the Poconos with the Wolfe cousins and grandparents, thanks to Grandma and Papa Wolfe’s long awaited Christmas present.  If you’ve never been to Great Wolf Lodge, GO.  It is truly a hotel made for kids, with an indoor water park, a scavenger hunt-like “MagiQuest” through the hotel, an arcade room, a kids' spa, and a toy/art room.

However this is not a post about GWL, but rather my thoughts on getting there, and also some special news about our sweet Herbie.

Dave and I drove separately as Maddie had a field trip on Friday and I had to teach.  Maddie and I headed north for the Poconos right after school let out, and the drive took me right back to college days.  My undergrad college was in northern PA and the drive there was gorgeous no matter the time of year.  I always took a lot of back roads until we got to route 80, and I still haven’t found a more picturesque drive.

Dad would always wash my windshield and kick my tires before I left, pleading me to drive carefully.  Then I would wind my way up GoldMine Road and through the ridges of the mountains.  There was a certain house that always had cats on the porch.  There was the deer crossing sign with the Rudolph nose glued to it.  There were sad, depressing areas intermingled with charming cottages and well-kept farmhouses.  In one town, there was a clock that was exactly one hour from home.  I would always try to beat it, try to get there in 58 or 59 minutes (I always checked my watch the minute the car left the driveway), but it rarely happened. 

Maddie asked me a few times if I was sure I was going the right way, and except for once when we stopped for a pit stop, then missed the ramp headed back onto the highway which caused us to take a little tour of Hazelton, I made it just fine.  But I know why she asked.  I have a bit of a reputation around here as the Driver Who Sometimes Gets Lost. 

Like the time we went to meet Dave who was on a business trip in Washington D.C.  I got so lost and drove around the city, frustrated and fuming, saying over and over, “No! Momma’s not lost!  The hotel is hiding!”, that I finally pulled the van over next to the Pentagon to check a map.  Well, I found out you don’t park your car next to the Pentagon.  A police car arrived within seconds and asked me what I was doing there, so  I told him I was lost.  My hugely pregnant belly and the fussing children in the backseat probably tipped him off that I wasn’t a terrorist, but I did earn myself a police escort to the correct road for the hotel.

It’s happened many times since then (though no more police escorts) but still, I have a reputation. I came by my driving habits honestly as my mom may be the WORST DRIVER EVER.  We call her Directionally Challenged (to her face).  In fact, if there was a Driver’s IQ, I would probably be considered gifted compared to her, and she would be one of those persons drooling in a corner.  Once she got lost getting from the gym near us to our house, about a one mile drive down the same road.  For those of you that live near me and know the area, she somehow ended up in the Brethren home area, before finally stopping at someone’s house and calling us up for directions.

Anyway, we’re back home, and we went to pick up Herbie at his babysitter’s house.  I asked my friend Wendy to babysit Herbie for us as she also owns a guinea pig, Ginger, and I knew she and her children would have fun with him.

Herbie did have a fun.  Maybe a little too much fun, if you catch my drift.  You can read Wendy’s blogpost here that tells you all about Herbie and Ginger’s, ahem… romantic getaway.  Needless to say, Herbie is home now sitting in a corner of his cage looking extremely bereft and, um, lovesick.  I did notice he gnawed a little notch in the door of his cage, however, and is carrying himself with a bit of a cocky swagger, his chest puffed out proudly, a little bit more of a bounce to his step than usual...

So, um, anybody want a baby guinea pig???