At 8pm I got a call. From San Juan Capistrano. For non-CA readers, that's an hour *South* of where we are. Turns when she said "We're coming back on the 405 freeway" she meant "We're taking the 101 to the 55 and then getting on the 405". So my directions, which assumed they were coming from the north, just made things worse. I'd said "pass the airport and then go six more exits", and they saw John Wayne Airport, which is in the wrong county, and kept going. Argh. So they couldn't have made it back to us before 9pm, and her sister-in-law had to be at work in SD at 6am. And I'm not going to be able to see them before they fly back. Sigh.
What really bothers me about it--when my mom and I were at our poorest Mary Anne's parents would have us over for dinner, probably the best meal I'd get all week. Not that I understood what was going on at the time. But I don't know if I'll have another chance to repay that hospitality.