Ortega highway is a 40-something mile winding road that goes through the Cleveland National Forest. It separates the Inland Empire from Orange County. "Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go..." and so it is that we travel this road, as a direct route from our house to my mother's house.
If I am not the person in the drivers seat, I will get carsick; sometimes mildly and other times much worse. Either way, it's inevitable. Our family dog, who does not have the option of driving, also gets sick from this ride. So, when she needs veterinary attention, as my dad is her veterinarian, I must take a longer, alternative route. Or she throws up along the way.
I have also known, for quite some time, that Max also gets carsick on this route. One time he threw up right after we exited the highway, well before we made it home. Another time he made it all the way to our driveway before tossing his cookies all over himself and the car. And yet another time he simply gurgled his baby belly contents up and out while we were stuck in construction traffic on that darned road, with just a few miles to go. There was also a time when I realized he was not going to konk-out, so I actually pulled off at "Hell's Kitchen," which is a biker bar and restaurant. Max and I sat by ourselves on the back porch having a soda. It was just what he needed, I guess, because he didn't throw up that time.
Fortunately, he normally sleeps during this drive. It's long and boring for him and the powerful hum of the truck is the equivalent of 'slipping him a mickey.' Unfortunately, there are those few times when he does not fall asleep. Tonight was one of those nights. I was actually feeling hopeful that he might be outgrowing the carsickness. We made it home and I got him out of the truck and put him in bed. He was awake, but seemed sleepy. Just as I set him down on the bed, the one with the freshly laundered sheets and comforter...well, you get the picture. As I write this I am listening to the second wash cycle for the comforter.
My husband says the worst part about washing something that's been thrown up on, is that all the chunks, even though they come out clean, are still present. I actually plucked all the chunks off of the comforter before throwing it in the washing machine. Poor Max, he had steak for dinner and lots of it, not to mention the macaroni & cheese, sauteed mushrooms and some salad...blech!!!
So the bedding went into the washing machine and Max went into the tub. Both are going to be cleaned and put right back onto the bed. Maybe next time I'll bring a little Benadryl for the ride over.