Driving Toward Istanbul

It was only 60 miles, but i drove The Girl closer to Istanbul last night.  She was spending the night with The Boy, and then catching a flight home today.


Yep.  It’s her home now.  She’s been living there since July.  Her bed is there.  Most of her friends are there.

The only incentives i offer?  A large brown dog and a surly orange cat.

Her dad bought the ticket.  Since he’s busy with work and hates travel, it seemed a reasonable solution.  She spent a few days with The Boy in the big university town, hanging out with her best gal pal there.  The Boy drove them north to visit their dad for a few days.

They arrived at my place last Thursday night.  As always, there was an ‘over/under’ bet involved.  This time?  They bet on Mr. Pickles abilities as a guard dog.

The Girl:  How long do you think we’ll be in the house before he wakes up?

The Boy:  Two minutes.

The Girl:  I’ll take “over”.

The Boy actually won this round, as the sleepy old brown dog shot out of my bed like a rocket as soon as the front door opened.  Even the cat went to investigate.  The Boy had been chauffeur for the week, driving her where she needed to go.  He needed to get back to work.  And by then, they’d had more than enough “brother-sister bonding time”.

Four days.  We made the most of it…

Friday night was “My Drunk Kitchen” night.  The Girl and her best gal pal went with me to a big downtown hipster bash, and we stopped for supplies on the way home.  i made “Froot Loop Russians”* while they baked S’more brownies from scratch.  It was a good night.

Saturday morning?  Off to the local market for crepes, cheese, veggies and people-watching.  She got in lots of shopping – access to a car, rather than public transportation, made it far easier for picking up gifts, and essentials.

The Girl:  I’m buying America.  I need to find things to bring back that are inherently American.  Do you think they’d have Busch beer coozies at the gas station?  Belt buckle beer bottle openers?

Studley and i took her out to dinner at a Turkish restaurant that night – in case she was missing the cuisine of home.  i’d been using my pigeon Turkish on the poor servers at this restaurant since my trip in December, and was excited to show them how cool my daughter was, being comfortably conversant in their native language.

We never stop being proud of our children.  Or coming up with new ways to embarrass them…

We stopped at the liquor store on the way back home.  Mostly to get more Froot Loop vodka, as she knew she wouldn’t be able to get that in Turkey.  Still jazzed from the chance to let her show off her language skills, i continued to brag on her to Studley.

daisyfae:  That’s my kid!

Studley:  Yup!  You made her!

daisyfae:  She came out of my vagina.

The Girl:  It was a c-section.  Technically, out of your stomach.

liquor store clerk: Do you want all this in a bag?

daisyfae:  Nah.  We’re just going to drink it in the parking lot.

These kids are remarkably tough to embarrass…

We both sort of dreaded it, but Sunday was the visit to The Park.  She wanted to see Mom, but it was when i told her that the entire Clampett Clan would be descending upon the ol’ Hibachi Grill and Buffet** that we both cringed.

The Girl:  I really want to see Granny.  And Aunt S is ok.  Would be great to see Uncle T, too.  But DQ?  BJ?  Their spawn?

We made it through.  She had a good time talking with Granny.  And Granny loved her gifts… And the time with a functional grandchild.  Who doesn’t ask her for money.

We also listened to BJs tales of training for “Mixed Martial Arts” cage fighting.  Of their newest 4-wheeler toy.  Their four-year old saying “I’m gonna fart on you and give you pink eye”.


The Girl managed to get all the liquor her gifts packed up, and we drove eastward last night.  Met up with The Boy at his place around 11:30 when he got home from work.

Seeing as i’d missed Easter for both of them, i was prepared.  There is a history of coming up with ridiculously blasphemous easter basket inclusions.  This year?  i think i outdid myself.

The Boy found this in his kitchen when he came in from a long day at the factory.

i left shortly afterwards.  Drove westward in the rain.  Only cried for the first 20 miles.  i’m getting better…


* From the “I can’t make this up” files.  Three Olives Loopy Vodka.  If you mix it with milk?  Tastes like the leftover stuff in the bowl after you finish your Froot Loops We were hammered before the brownies came out of the oven…

** Pronounced “boo-FAY”.

42 thoughts on “Driving Toward Istanbul

  1. I would cry, too. Turkey is far away! But you had an awesome time, and how unbelievably cool that your daughter speaks Turkish!

    I have an aweful confession to make. I’ve never tried froot loop vodka. Argh!

      • She’s likely to come back for a couple weeks in August. And there’s skype. Where she has to deal with the same problem she deals with when she’s home – i don’t wear trousers much around the house.

        The froot loop vodka is new. Makes me wonder, though, about the creative genius who decided that it would be a good flavor. He must have been drunk….

        • I’ve never tried Froot Loop Vodka either. The three of us should get together again sometime and punish a bottle together

  2. yeah, you may be going to hell, but the way will be happily lit with baby blue peep on a chocolate cross glowing eyeballs…and i’ll likely be waiting there for you at the finish line.

    • those warm brownies were covered in vanilla bean ice cream, with a drizzle of melted 70% cocoa dark chocolate spread. the froot loop russians were like having cake and milk. we were in sugar comas by 2am…

      and sometimes life is indeed sweet…

  3. What can I say but ‘oh wow’. And you only cried for twenty miles? I think you were cheating. I got a bit misty here. And I suspect I am not alone.
    My smaller portion adored Turkey. If his health improves I am betting he will be back like a shot.

    • It was late, and rainy, and i was driving in a construction zone. figured i needed to “check it before i wrecked it” and focus on getting home in one piece. otherwise, it would have been at least 30 miles…

      hoping you can get back to Turkey. i loved it. and The Girl is very happy living there… amazing place…

  4. It’s getting really annoying that children don’t get embarrassed like they used to *starts working on a cunning plan*

    • Ding! Ding! Ding! You win the “Ear Worm” Award! And very glad to hear that your daughters will forever live in your basement… let’s talk about that issue in about 20 years…

  5. Make the 300 miles my son is away from us not seem so bad… although as he is the middle of middle earth – sorry Wales – actually Istanbul would probably be quicker and cheaper to get to!

    • we have skype. it’s ok. the time difference is the biggest challenge – she’s 7 hours ahead of me. flights from this part of the world to that part of the world aren’t exactly cheap, though. Under $1,000 is a good deal…

  6. I ADORE Loopy Vodka!
    It’s my current fave at the moment! 🙂

    How awesome that you got to spend some time with your offspring!
    I know Turkey is a long way off …. but you should be so proud of yourself for raising such an adventurous and independent woman!
    I guess she takes after her Momma! 😉

    I am totally loving the LED Peeps!
    (My oldest stages murder scenes with all kinds of Peeps and the Butter Lamb on Easter morning)

    • trying different drink recipes – the froot loop russian is good. the froot loop sunrise? meh…

      love the murder scene idea, too! i knew The Boy was going to be special when he’d bite the heads off the peeps when he was about 2 years old…

    • the clerk heard it all… looked up and sort of grinned at the “vagina” comment, but really didn’t bat an eye. i suspect liquor store clerks have seen and heard all sorts of entertaining exchanges at the register…

  7. My mom could learn a thing or three from you about making peace with an empty nest. Currently, she’s a little too excited at the prospect of coming to live with me for a while if I have back surgery.

    • did i mention the part where i sat on her bed and had a good cry, after i picked up all of the shrapnel from the floor, put away scattered piles of clothing, removed all of the half-full glasses of water, and made the bed?

  8. Awwww… this is so sweet. I love how you maximized your time– you sound so accepting and loving. Aren’t mother/daughter relationships the strangest/most beautiful things ever? The crying for 20 miles reminds me of my momma who lives 2500 miles away. I’m crying for 20 miles over here now!

    • i’m sure my kids would add “grumpy” and “OCD” to the “accepting and loving” part… i put aside my nearly psychotic reaction to things being moved around where they’re not supposed to be while the kids are home. “The. Scissors. Go. In. THAT. Basket.” [sound of head exploding]

    • It turns out, we all sort of actually like each other. It helps. They are a lot of fun… and we’ve laughed our way through some pretty ugly stuff…

  9. Not much imbibing of alcohol on this trip (diabetics,astronomical blood pressures, wowsers…), but I’m enjoying my cyber hangover from this post! 😉
    Next time, can I come visit you?

    • Absolutely! If you found your way to the US again, i suspect i could find a way for a meet up! Can’t imagine a reason that you’d end up in my little corner of the US, but i’ve got loads of frequent flier miles…

  10. I don’t even want to think about the boyos leaving home, at least not yet, i know the day is coming but i still have a few years and i’m kinda attached to them at this point… but this post just oozes how proud you are of that kid, good stuff Miss Daisy.

    • they won’t leave home. promise.

      i’m proud of both of them. The Boy has really gutted his soul this year, and made some very difficult decisions – and is moving in a very good direction. He did it on his own. i still want to get you in the room with him one of these days for a couple beers…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s