PD and I spent last weekend with the Juju Clan (not linking to Juju’s blog, it seems to be in a state of repose…). It was great. The littlest Juju boy turned 3 years old. We sang Happy Birthday (quietly while he covered his ears and closed his eyes- doesn’t like being the center of attention, obviously) and ate cake and ice cream and he opened presents in the traditional way that we celebrate birthdays. It was great spending time with them on a happy occasion. I just happen to have the most awesome grandkids in the world.
There always seem to be some interesting sights and occurences on our way to and from NY. This time was no exception. The only thing missing was the usual gorgeous sun and clouds that always seem to be present over Interstate 79. This time was just gray gloom. Oh well.
I am not one to buy much into stereotypes such as the ones that you may or may not associate with truck drivers. But I don’t believe that I’ve ever noticed a truck driver who was of the Oriental persuasion. Nothing wrong with that, just an observation. Kind of like a blog I used to read, “Black Men Don’t Ride Bikes.”
Coming down 79 between mile markers 161 and 162, there is a small stuffed gnome strapped to a pole. That was pretty cool. Hope he’s keeping warm at night. And not missing his family too much.
There was only ONE BOAT on the lake at Moraine State park. It wasn’t terribly sunny but it wasn’t cold, so I was surprised.
Saw a license plate on a fancy car (maybe a Lexus?) that read: PRAYD4IT. Thought that was kind of sad, myself.
A conversation between PD and me on the way~
PD: There’s an unmarked State Police car.
Me: Question: What’s the sense of an unmarked car if people like you can tell it’s a police vehicle?
PD: (no answer)
Me: How did you know it’s a police car?
PD: It said on the side.
Me: (wth?) Then it wasn’t unmarked, now was it?
PD: Well, there were no lights on top.
It’s just these sorts of exchanges that make me wonder how we get along so well.
Then there was this~
We’d come out of a rest stop. PD had been waiting for me, reading the front page of USA Today. There was an article about a bomb-sniffing dog that had been lost in the Afghan desert for a year and he read me the the headline. I had been thinking about something and what he’d said only half-registered in my busy brain. He told me that when they found the dog they honored him with a regular hero’s welcome. It suddenly occurred to me that it seemed highly weird that they would train an Afghan Hound to sniff bombs. And how in the heck would one survive for a year in the desert? Yeah, this is how my brain works. And why PD deserves your prayers. And more of my undivided attention.