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So when I said in my previous post that I had plans that did not include some hurricane raining on my parade, I should have also pointed out that my plans did not include throwing up everything I had inside me for hours straight. But alas, I play with the cards I am dealt.

I am sorry for the graphic nature of this blog, but please, for sympathy purposes only, let me explain to you all how my week got off to a banging good start.

The original plan was for me to leave Friday and head on up to Nashville to see my dear friend Susanna. We have been best friends since the 2nd grade when I introduced myself in Mrs. Saucier's class by saying "Hey. I'm Heathuw". In a really quiet, shy voice. Speech impediment and all. She loved me from the start. We were both wearing homemade bubble suits for crying out loud: it was a friendship made in Heaven. Anyway, I can tell I am losing you.

So I was going to go to Nashville to see her (Olivia, if you are out there reading this, my plan was to call you and see you too. a fun time would surely been had by all) . Well once Gustav was on his merry way, my husband, the careful coast-born hurricane ready man that he is, was fearful that once I was away, I would not be able to get back home in a timely manner due to the fact that the interstates coming in would be all be north-bound for evacuees. AWESOME. So I did as I was told. Not wanting to put my husband through any stress, I cancelled the nashville trip.

But I was not going to let Gustav ruin my whole weekend! Oh no. So I packed my bags and made my way to see my little Henry, or Hennie, as he calls himself. Since Trey had plans this weekend and would spend a great deal working and Gustav would not be paying a visit until Sunday or Monday, a trip to see my little man sounded like a plan.

And it was. We played. We ate. We read. We painted. We raced on bunnen-bunnens. Obviously this is the little riding thing for toddlers. I don't know how to spell it. By Sunday, Gustav was knocking on the gulf's doors and I was getting a little nervous. So what did I do? I headed south.

Kristen thought this to be a dumb thing for me to do, but I figured I did not want Trey to ride out the hurricane alone, should it decide to come to Mississippi, so I must go to him. So kissed everyone goodbye and drove home. Since I did not have my camera and do not have a visual, I would like very much for you all to use your imagination here: The traffic on I-20 heading out of Clinton was crazy. Full of cajuns and coasties, I am assuming. Trailers, busses, red cross vans. Everyone prepared for Gustav, who apparently everyone was assuming was Katrina's brother. The moment I turned onto South 49, I was alone. NOT ANOTHER CAR. 49 North was in standstill traffic. Not me. I was cruising at a good 75 MPH. I counted 4 other cars on my way home that day. 1 was a Red Cross van, but I am counting it for good measure.

So I get home on Sunday to see that my sweet husband cleaned the house. Cute boy. But that is besides the point. I started feeling a little woozy. So naturally we went to eat Mexican. We feel that cures all blues. Well, not this one buddy.

A few hours later I was hovered over the toilet ridding myself of all that I had eaten the past 72 hours. It was horrific. Poor Trey.

This lasted hours. Through the storm. There were several tornado warnings on Monday, so my sweet husband pulled the mattress off the daybed in a spare room and put in the hallway close to the bathroom. Easy access.

So that is how I spent my first half of the week. I just hope I didn't get Hennie or his parents sick.

Now you know.