Where In The World Are You Carmen Sandiego?

This morning, as I lay beneath the cushy down comforter, in a freezing cold hotel room in Idaho, I was jarred out of sleep by the ringing of my cell phone.

"Are you okay???" The tone is frantic.

It's my mother.

Big surprise, right?

"Yeah, I'm fine." I answered. "Why?"

"Where's Eddie??" she probes, panic in her voice.

"Picking up the load. Why?" I ask again.

"Oh, thank God," she sighs. "So then you're both okay."

"Yeah, Mom, we're fine. What's up?"

"Well, there's a fifteen truck pile-up in L.A.; they're all on fire, in a tunnel, the highway is closed, one person is missing and and all the traffic is backed up for miles. I saw a white truck and thought..."

"Ma. Slow down. We're in Idaho."

"Idaho?? I thought you said you were going to L.A." she asks, confused.

"Yeah, Mom. On Monday."

She laughed at herself, as she usually does, then quickly relays the information to my step-father, who was waiting on the news of where we were. They were both relieved to hear we were okay.

This isn't the first time she's called, concern in her voice, after watching some catastrophe on the news but as is often the case, she either has the wrong day, the wrong state or the idea that we're involved in something that would be completely unrealistic for us; like a bobsledding accident.

She either needs to get a calendar to note our itinerary, or a map so she'll know which states are next to each other and not get all wigged out for nothing.

And why doesn't she ever call us when she hears on TV that someone won Powerball??