In which I prove that yes, I HAVE lost my mind

Have you all seen this? It's a chance for you to make $50 AND add to your pile o'evidence that I should, yes, indeedy, be committed to a mental institution and stripped of the $1.25 I have in assets. Click here.

Actually, I'm not as embarrassed as I could be because that picture is more than ten years old. I look like an entirely different sort of cow now --more of a Hereford. Especially THIS one --right now I have exactly that expression on my face at any given time. I'm not wearing earrings, though. (See Number 26.) And also, I would not be a Hereford bull.

Further evidence of my insanity: we are taking our girls on an across-state road trip WITHOUT A DVD PLAYER. We're going to Alabama to visit my father-in-law and we decided, completely sober at the time, that it was a rite of passage to go on a family road trip. Oh, yes, it's a GREAT idea to load our two girls into the car and schlep them and their six million Polly Pocket pieces on a fifteen-hour car trip. Fun, fun! Family Bonding, you betcha. We leave in the morning.

The no-DVD player was my idea because we are always trying to limit the kids' exposure to passive entertainment so that about the time when my brain is leaking out of my head but before I swallow my tongue, I have a go-to plan for distraction. That sounds so reasonable, doesn't it? Luckily, if I start to foam at the mouth, we can just buy a DVD player at some Wal-Mart we're passing. (I know this is akin to me saying, "I'll just have the epidural if the pain gets too bad" but I have to try.)

Ana, 9, is exhibiting some anxiety about the trip. Last night, when I made my way up to bed, there was a note on my pillow. It said:

Mom --I'm scared to go to Alabama. Love, Ana

So, I wrote back:
Why? What is scary about it to you? love, Mom

And she wrote back:
It's long and new laws and I've never been there.

It gave me pause. I mean, was she planning on running moonshine or something? But then I remembered that this was my Ana, who likes to know the rules. Who found that the scariest parts of the Harry Potter books were not the three-headed-dogs or Voldemort, but were the parts where Harry is out of bed at night and in danger of getting caught. He was breaking the rules! Quick, turn the page!

Now, if it had been little Hurricane Jane (6), we would have had to search her luggage to find out what controlled substance she was trying to take across state lines. Actually, now that I think about it, I better search her luggage anyway.

I'll write from the road. Unless, of course, I throw myself under the wheels of an 18-wheeler can't find an Internet connection.