Journal Feb 16th; The Year of the Rabid, Drooling Weasel; 2011
Today is vacation eve, with a cold snap flushing our cheeks before we fly to Southern California for a ten day road trip. Mary is upstairs cleaning, I’m down here and I should be cleaning, but need to test out this handy new keyboard. It’s not bad, and I like how hard I can slam the keys, almost typewriter-like. But I need to cut my fingernails.
That paragraph represents about the maximum length of concentrated thought I can deliver in today’s rapid-fire information age. More Later.
We are doing last minute budgeting for the trip, realizing we don’t have enough cash and have to dip into the evil credit cards. These things tend to sneak up on us like a hungry cat padding softly up to a couple of extra stupid, distracted birds. Still, I look forward to the trip, relaxing, driving around, arguing over the music, and eating from roadside taco stands.
I’ve had nostalgia for road trips after living in Juneau for eight years, forest and sea bound to seventy miles. Yet my anxiety over the thought of driving busy California roads is a little high. Relaxing road trip? Probably Montana in early fall or late spring before the forest fires start, interstates and bad food, one vista to another, stoping in small towns to hit the second hand stores and have lunch in poorly maintained parks. Maybe even more later.
Here’s a photo having nothing to do with this post, but I took it recently…
and now it reminds me of one more problem. We asked my mother-in-law to look after our dogs, but she is becoming more and more forgetful, so we have to call every day to remind her…ack.