Four — no, five — days at Christmas

Many things can go wrong with holiday plans. This year, wow, yes.

Weeks ago, I locked my car keys in my car using the auto-start. I always keep car keys in my purse, but I threw my purse in the car while I scraped the windows.

Sometimes the car shuts itself off if I open and close the doors too often while scraping ice or removing the windshield cover.

You know how they say, “A place for everything, and everything in its place?” On the outside looking in is not the place to be on a cold morning. Keys in purse and purse in car all locked up tight.

Thankfully, I had apartment keys in my coat pocket so I could retrieve the spare set of car keys, but it rattled me. What if I’d been on the road?

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. While packing for several days away, I removed the car keys from my purse and put them in my coat pocket. I was going to be smart this time.

 After five trips to pack the car with presents, a suitcase, and kitchen items and ingredients, I went back for Mr. Dog and a quick last-minute check, and we were off! So what if we started an hour later than originally planned? I had time to spare.

Most of the snow from previous storms had melted and a heavy blanket of fog enveloped the countryside as we pulled out of Storm Lake, but it dissipated once we left BV County.

The dog and I often stop at Marker 126 convenience store on Highway 20, and it sports a little dog run and a playground for kids. So, after letting the dog do his thing, I decided to go inside to do mine. That’s when I discovered that I had forgotten my purse at home.

A place for everything and everything in its place.

The stretch from Storm Lake to Fort Dodge is the most mind-numbing part of the trip east to see the kids. Readers, I drove it three times that morning. West to east, then east to west, then west to east again encountering heavy fog every time. I should get some kind of prize. The dog was very confused. He should get some kind of prize, too.

I’d packed kitchen items and ingredients because I’d offered to make dinner at my son and daughter-in-law’s house. Cooking a meal in someone else’s kitchen is not for the faint of heart.

Will there be coriander in the cupboard? Does she have a sheet pan? My daughter-in-law has a beautiful kitchen, but we have different cooking styles. I’m from the Meatloaf and Jell-O Generation; she is Gen Sushi and Pasta Salad.

Still, I read recipes like novels and dream of new, yummy things to try. Because it was a get-together and because I’m tired of cooking the same things, I threw caution to the wind and decided to attempt an untried dish. Recipe for disaster, right?

Actually, it wasn’t. The marinated chicken with crispy rice was a hit.

What was a disaster was having picked two possible recipes and buying ingredients for the recipe I didn’t make. Not quite as bad as forgetting your purse at home, but still, not great.

My son — bless him — went back to the store twice for provisions.

Setting out for home the next day, I packed everything back up, along with a few leftovers. Seriously, that chicken with crispy rice was good enough that my daughter-in-law said she would finish it off.

She wondered about the weather, though, and I should have listened. The forecast, when  checked four days ago, said no snow and warm temps. To me, that meant fog, and I’d already dealt with that on the Forgotten Purse Tour.

I set out, and yes, the wind was gale force, but nothing careful steering couldn’t correct. Then, the snow started, and the traffic slowed, and slowed some more until we were creeping along, hazards flashing.

Readers, I am prone to going into shock, and my arms started to go numb from the stress. Don’t pass out! I told myself. You have to hold it together for the dog’s sake!

I’m usually such a timid winter driver, so why didn’t I exit at Webster City, along with the long line of drivers ahead of me? Why did I continue?

Because it was only a few miles to Fort Dodge. How much worse could it be? Worse. A lot worse.

We pulled into Marker 126, which is starting to feel like home away from home, and I reported to my son and daughter-in-law about the weather. They called and found “room at the inn” for the dog and me for the night, and we snuggled in, listening to the wind howl outside our window.

Why do we live here?

Joan Zwagerman and Mr. Dog got home a day later than planned but thankful they were safe and thankful for a wonderful holiday.