Posted on Jun 29, 2022 in
On the Porch with Patti
By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher
Partners in crime – Patti, Lucas and Noell – in search of higher elevations and cooler temps – all found in the San Juan Mountains.
Getting ready for the July 4th weekend meant one thing this year: road trip! I had a mission with one singular objective: to get somewhere where I didn’t feel like I was going to explode like fireworks in the sky.
Seems my temperature control regulation system is a bit off. Fans, ice, blasting air conditioning, cold compresses, drugs, vodka – nothing really seems to affect a change in this malfunction other than moderate temperatures with no humidity. So, the only way to cure my malady and keep Mr. Kaminski alive was to abandon Texas for a brief respite. When I say brief, I mean a minimum of 40 days, just to be on the safe side.
So, I proceeded with my mission like any smart Texas girl would. I packed up more suitcases than I could carry with a plethora of clothing suitable for all occasions complete with cowboy boots, rounded up two of my partners in crime, hijacked Mr. Kaminski’s F-150 and headed west. Everybody knows a girl needs a big ol’ truck for a road trip.
I left marching orders for everyone – the kids, the team, Mr. Kaminski – and took care of everything for a minimum of 30 days out. If it needed doing, I did it, well in advance, and if I couldn’t do it, I packed it and took it with me. It was a solid plan, until it came time to load the truck.
Turns out those F-150s don’t hold as much as they should. It’s a design flaw I’m certain. I plan on sending Ford a strongly worded e-mail. Because I had to have room for my dos amigos and their accoutrements, which weren’t nearly as plentiful as mine, I had to economize. Yes, I didn’t know the meaning of the word either. It’s a Mr. Kaminski word.
The loading routine went something like this: I would pack a container, filled to the brim, barely able to get it somewhat closed, place it in the queue for loading, and Mr. Kaminski would shake his head and say the word. You know the word – the word I don’t like.
This went on for a solid hour with me just repacking the same stuff, putting it in different containers to trick him, with my temperature gauge continually rising. We had purposely waited until the sun went down to begin this unfortunate process so it would not be sweltering, but it was still in the 90’s, and the game of trying to cram 10 pounds of potatoes in a 5-pound bag was getting old real quick.
I finally wore him down about two hours in and got everything I needed – or thought I might possibility need – into said vehicle. I set my alarm for 4:30 am so I could pick up my pards and get on the road. Now I’m not normally vertical at such an hour, but I rose to the occasion and arrived on time to literally pick Lucas up on the street and learn that Noell had just barely woken up. We stuffed her in the truck as is and commenced on our grand adventure.
Nearly 1,000 miles, three states and numerous thunderstorms later – all in the same 24 hours – we made it to our destination worn slap out. I’m proud to say we rallied the next day – and for the next three days – and did it all. And I’m prouder to say that my temperature finally regulated. The only downside is that the dynamic duo decided to fly home. It took three planes, four cities and nearly 14 hours. I would show you the videos, but they’re not family-friendly. Next time I think they’ll just stay. It’s a much better option, plus it’s cooler here.
Happy July 4th everyone. Stay cool, and see y’all next week – on the porch!
Patti Parish-Kaminski
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