The trip has begun! As is typically the case with a carload of friends, hilarity ensues. Anal RVs abound, Great Fun lies ahead in Uranus, as well as a fudge shop (I’m not even kidding. This is the schtick Uranus, MO uses to promote tourism) and My Cows is serious business here in the heartland.
We stopped to visit some fellow beached travelers who, incidentally, just got their ship seaworthy once again and they may join us on the way back. The stop off turned into a camp out, complete with a snapping turtle, cows and scary stories.
Life lesson, boys and girls, when people are inebriated (and/or trippng their faces off) near cows, everyone Will step in a patty at some point during the evening. That’s just life, I guess. But if your dog likes the smell of cows and is going to get back in the car in the morning, just tie her up for the night.
Fish takes one last look back at the house before setting out.
I’ve heard of fish as big as dogs, but dogs as small as Fish??
“Did you get it?…I’m not in a patty, right?”
Nothin like hot dogs for breakfast to combat a hangover. This guy drinks like a…Right, well, a fish.
It’s the bane of my existence,
it’s the thorn in my side
It plagues me with persistence
To this fate I am resigned
Oh, I’m the queen of losin stuff
No matter how I try
It always leaves me in a huff
When there’s something I can’t find!
I always leave my keychain
In my little bag with stripes
But somehow the bag never remains
faithfully by my side.
I tear the house apart
lamenting, “I’m sure it was right here!”
But I may as well be searching in the dark
For when I check the last place seen, my trinkets are nowhere near.
I carefully choose where to set things down
then scurry about to tidy my nest,
and in all the bustling and shuffling around
Where the hell my things went, is anyone’s guess!