The Eagle Has Landed, I Repeat The Eagle Has Landed

Hello everyone! I hope your weeks were more fabulous than the thought of Star Wars' Princess Leia as a "Disney Princess." (It's a thought that makes me chuckle every time.)

Well, I did it! After 1,400 miles, 26 hours on the road and an unfathomable amount of terrible gas station coffee, I made it to Arizona!

Of course, I was the genius who decided that the day after I competed all day in the Spokane Highland Games should be the day I pack all of my stuff into the back of a rental truck and move. So one day after doing this:

And this:

I was loading everything I own on this planet (shout out to the folks who came and helped) into the back of a truck and setting off for Arizona. To answer your question, no my muscles have still not forgiven me.

My View for 99% of the Trip

Then there came the three-day journey to my new home in Glendale, Arizona. My mother and grandmother were in charge of the moving van, I was in charge of the car containing the cats.

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of trying to drive with two cats in the car, let me tell you, if you want the true horror movie experience without the chainsaws or ghosts then nothing will get you closer.

Not an Accurate Representation of This Trip

I had made a small area in the back of my car with the kitties' litter box, some towels for them to lay on and attached them to little harnesses and leashes so that they couldn't come to the front where I was driving... or so I thought.

What immediately happened was Santeria, who is agoraphobic beyond even Detective Monk levels, curled up in her litter box and screamed for two hours straight. She then moved to the comfort of her kitty crate, which was also in the back, and continued to scream from there.
 
Now when I say "screaming," I literally mean screaming. It sounded like I was murdering a woman in a Hitchcock-esque fashion as I was driving.

The few times she left the litter box or the crate to explore the car she would peer out the windows for just as long as it took for me to find the slightest curve or bump in the road and then she would skitter back to safety and start screaming again.

Voodoo, as it turns out, I named incorrectly. I should have named her Houdini as she figured out multiple ways to escape her little kitty harness and the leash. I would be driving along and suddenly Voodoo would be underneath my seat playing with my ankles or attempting to climb on the dashboard.

Adorable but Untrustworthy

Finally, after getting her back in her harness for the 27th time, Voodoo settled for creeping over my shoulder for a majority of the trip. It was from this position that she spent the rest of the drive hissing at anything that she deemed inappropriate and sometimes smacking me in the face because whatever it was was obviously my fault.

So basically my trip down to Phoenix wrangling cats could probably have been used as training for special operatives who are about to be sent in the field to disarm landmines. They would have nerves of steel after three days trapped in a car with the constant screaming, random bats to the head and ankles and playing the "where did that cat get to now!?" game while driving 70 miles an hour.

Well I'm here, I'm exhausted but I'm alive and excited to see what adventures Arizona will bring!

As always, I can be found on Facebook and Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and my books can be found here!