In three days’ time, we need to have the house packed and the MotherShip ready for departure. While the excitement is nearly unbearable, the anxiety of trying to get it all finished is looming over our heads. Tom has been tirelessly working on the Vdub, replacing its engine, rewiring it, putting in a water filtration system and many other things that I don’t have a clue about because I don’t speak car. I did, however, work on the intake manifold… took me a while to get that name right as I was referring to it as the uptake manifest for a good month and half before anyone corrected me… rude.
While Tom has been working on the MotherShip, my responsibilities have been more of the domestic variety- packing up the house and sewing curtains, etc. for the van. The feminist in me threw a fit- gendered work, how dare anyone suggest that! Then Tom softly pointed out that while he would be happy to sew curtains and pack the house he fears that I wouldn’t know how to put a Subaru conversion engine into the MotherShip or know how to do other mechanical type things. I silently cursed my parents for always taking our vehicle to the mechanic whenever something was wrong instead of teaching me how to repair it (not that they would know how to fix the car themselves, but you always have to blame your parents for something, right?).
In an effort to restore my pride, I told Tom that I agreed and that he should do the mechanical work. I nonchalantly stated that this should be so because as my being Captain of the Mothership, he will be my Number One.* Tom’s face looked confused as if he were trying to process a million different things. Tom finally spoke, “first of all, what are you talking about? And secondly, you think YOU are Captain of the Mothership?” “It’s from Star Trek, Next Generation”, I replied. “Piccard never actually did much of the driving of the ship and when Piccard wanted something or something went wrong he would simply turn to Number One and say make it so Number One. It’s kind of the way we are. I am Captain and you are Number One.” While Tom failed to comment on that statement I took his lack of a response as an affirmation of my brilliance. I imagined him thinking, why yes, Brooke, you are the Captain and I will proudly serve as your Number One. Now I just have to figure out how to say it in Spanish…
Besides reenacting scenes from what I envision would be on Little House on the Prairie** while my mom and I packed up the house and Tom’s mom and I worked on curtains, I tried to get all things wedding related in order. My mom and I went to pick up my dress yesterday. She hasn’t seen it before so I tried it on at the store for her. She started crying. At first I thought she was crying because she thought I looked beautiful in the dress and all those other thoughts that mothers have about their daughters when they see them in a wedding dress for the first time. Then I looked over my shoulder and saw her crying while staring at the other group of people in the fitting room drinking wine. She wasn’t crying about my dress. She was crying because no one offered her wine. Bad parenting you think? No, I completely understood. When I realized what she was actually crying about, I nearly shed a tear, too.
Having my dress all figured out, I tried to get Tommy to settle on something he wants to wear. The wedding isn’t until February, but I wanted to get everything in order before we take off. Bringing it up in front of his mother and my mother probably wasn’t the best idea. They say you revert back to your childhood ways when you are around family. Mix that with a few beers and you get the following response to a simple request that he needs to buy a suit, “A suit! I don’t wear suits. They are icky! Tommy no want to wear suit.” Actually, I think he reverted back way before his childhood, to a previous life in a more barbaric time when you speak about yourself in third person and leave important words out of sentences making it grammatically incorrect. After a good scolding from his mother, he begrudgingly agreed, although still pouting.
Tom is finishing up his work on the dairy. He is a bit sad to stop working on the family business, but excited about the unknown adventures that await us. The dairy work will come in very handy along the way, you know, for all those times we need to stop and milk cows. The mechanical experience working on cars, trucks, and tractors, may come in handy too should the MotherShip need some TLC.
We leave for Montana next week, then down to Colorado, Arizona, Mexico and beyond! We will try to update this blog frequently. Tommy will write a blog soon about the mechanical aspects of the trip preparation. Please comment and/or email. Hearing from friends, family, and people curious about the trip would be delightful.
* The “number one” joke was taken from the hilarious people at my office. However, as a secret Star Trek Next Generation fan, I modified it and added it to my own life.
** I have never seen Little House on the Prairie. I just imagine cleaning and sewing would be on a lot of the episodes.