Road Trip.

As I type to you tonight, I sit facing my pool with it's very sad winter cover on it.  I face it because I am at a new desk looking out the window in my new updated family room.  Behind me is our new sectional sofa that I drove six hours to pick up today, all so we would have somewhere to watch the Lions piss away another Thanksgiving Day game.  Well, also because I am sick of sitting on Al's dog bed and watching him have a nervous breakdown trying to get me off it.  Did I mention Al had fleas this week?  I think not, but if that's not dog karma I don't know what is - get off my dog bed bitch or I will infest your nice new carpet with fleas.

Anyhoo, six hours through west Michigan and northern Indiana is a snoozefest, ya'll. I had lots of time to have random thoughts, and now I pass them on to you.

To The Pigs in the semi truck that looked at me through the little air holes:  I am SO SORRY!  I wanted to take each and every one of you home with me.  And I know where you were going.  I felt so bad that for six minutes I was never going to eat pork again. Until I remembered bacon. And Bill's pulled pork.  Godspeed Pigs.

I wonder if the Amish ever feel the lure of the Velvet Touch Peep Shows?  Right next to a farm there was a place offering $10 Dances.  Amish dude would be so busted, because really, everyone would know it was your wagon parked outside the purple building.

I am considered a grown adult, but names like Big Bone Lick State Park, and Dick Nutley County Road still make me giggle.

My life came to a brief standstill while listening to Tom Jones sing "She's a Lady" on my iPod.  I realized after all these years that he was taking his lady to dinner, not to Deeenah's. And that his lady was a winner, not a wiener.

While on my drive, I realized that just like there are shitty nurses that you wouldn't want to touch your loved ones, there are shitty truck drivers that are driving right next to you.  Sleeping.

I passed three wineries, and felt like it would have been the equivalent of adultery if I stopped for a tasting without Bill as my wingman.

And last, when arriving home, I realized there is really nothing sexier than my husband assembling a couch.  Unless you count when he uses power tools.

Come on over and sit on my new couch, listen to Tom Jones and drink wine with me.   We are taking a breather from project back room so I can bitch about the holidays in an appropriate fashion.  Stay tuned for the eating bar project - coming to you in January.

And next time you eat bacon, thank those pigs on I-69.