• It would appear that sleep deprivation and over-scheduling is how Irish Woman and I live now.
• The bad news is that I didn’t win the Mustang raffle at the church picnic.
  • The good news is that I won’t have to make the choice of finally owning a Mustang in my late forties or taking the cash.
• Boo did some good works by handing out ice cream to the folks who were eating chicken dinners at the picnic.  More than a few folks noticed that several young ladies his age were clustered around the ice cream cooler during his tenure.
  • Irish Woman was unavailable for comment.
• Irish Woman has relearned that Guinness makes me goofy.
• I’m not going to say that the weather during the drive home on Friday evening was rough.  I’m just going to say that I’ve never had my truck powerwashed so thoroughly before and leave it at that.
• We’ve reached that sweet, sweet part of the summer where we’re ordering school uniforms and taking inventory on our pencils and notebooks.
• I’d like to thank LawDog for the fact that my youngest son can now quote the Baghavad Ghita and Melville, as well as call an ambulance “the big white taxi”.

I won’t go into details, but today was not a good day.  It was the kind of day where the little voice in my head told me “I’m glad that’s over” when I started getting ready for bed.  Ever have one of those days?

But it wasn’t That Day.

We all have That Day.  It’s the day when we look back and wonder how we got through it.  It might have been stressful, or even deadly.  It’s the day that lays opposite The Best Day in our spectrum of experience.  All other days are measured against those two days.

That Day is the one that wakes you up in the middle of the night.  It’s the one that drags you back to relive it when you see or smell or hear something that reminds you of That Day.  It’s the one that every parent wants to shield their child from.

Everybody I know has had That Day, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s not a part of the human experience.  Perhaps the reason that folks who get freaked out over relatively minor stuff get on my nerves so much is that to them That Day was something that a lot of us just call ‘Tuesday’.

Anyway, here’s hoping that That Day is behind all of you.

At least today wasn’t That Day.

• When we all get together to take a trip on the big silver sky taxi, we, by definition, all have somewhere to be.
  • Taking fifteen minutes to find your seat, stow your things, sit down, make friends with the folks around you, strap in, unstrap in, retrieve your electronic thingie, binkie, and blankie, and then strap back in, is a black-letter law justification for keelhauling.
• The row and seat numbers are in an easily deduced pattern.  Also, the airline has gone to the trouble and expense to put up little signs to help out those who never passed that part of kindergarten.  Please, for the sake of our sanity and your own safety, learn to use them.
• Sitting/laying down in the main walkway of a gate seating area in order to do stretching/yoga/walrus-in-rut impersonations for half an hour may or may not help your bad back.  It will definitely make me wish your bones would start to spontaneously snap into small, easily digested pieces.
• If you are giving your pre-teen children a sugary coffee drink five minutes before getting on a small aircraft, I hope that, someday, your children put you into a substandard nursing home built on an abandoned graveyard.
  • Now, I may not be the best parent on Earth, Lord knows.  But I’m pretty sure that letting little Susie and Bobby watch “The Purge” during a flight might not be the best decision you could have made.
• If the first-class passengers aren’t routinely asked to remove their shoes, belt, electronics, and dignity when going through airport screening, then there’s probably no good reason for everyone else to do it.
• Showing up to your job serving coffee to folks in an airport on a Sunday morning when you either dropped acid right before work or you’re still coming down from the night before is not cool.
  • Seriously, her pupils were the same shape, size, and color as a shot of espresso.
  • She was, of course, pleasant.  Most stoned folks are.  She just wasn’t very efficient.
  • It took her five minutes to take my order for a coffee, large, one each, then about another three to find the cup, then find the coffee, then fill the cup, then remember to turn around and hand it to me.  I had to remind her to swipe my credit card before handing it back to me.
• If it takes two flight attendants, a quarter pound of bacon grease, a come-along, and rhythmic drumming by the co-pilot to get your My Little Pony carry-on into the overhead bin, then maybe you should have let your mommy pack for you.
• Riding your motorcycles four abreast, thereby taking up both lanes of traffic, does not make you rebels without a cause.  It makes you a bunch of douchebags.
• I’m guilty of forgetting that Nissan put their gas tanks on the wrong side of the car, thereby causing me to have to pull out of a fueling area in Fergus Falls, Minnesota, and turn around at 1:30 AM on a Sunday night.
  • Pointing this out and laughing at me does not help the situation.
  • From the look on your wife’s face, she thought you were an asshole, too.
• There are fewer things I want to hear after getting home from a long trip than hearing Irish Woman ask “Honey, do you know where my camera is?”
  • In related news, the hotel, airline, and rental car company all had “I lost my stuff” links on their websites.

• Our plan to land in Minneapolis on a Sunday evening, drive for a few hundred miles, sleep for a couple of hours, then finish the drive to my home town looked good on paper.
• If you’re going to design a hotel that has intense spotlights shining on the front of the building, please make sure that the curtains in the rooms near said spotlights will:
  • a) Shut out all of the blindingly bright, white light so that guests can sleep
  • b) Close more than 25% of the width of the windows
• I expect to receive, any day now, a letter from the FAA and the North Dakota Highway Patrol asking us to either put wings on our rental car or slow the heck down.
• Apparently, having a hot flash while trying to get across the Minneapolis airport was not part of Irish Woman’s plans.  However, the beautiful ladies at the Hertz desk accomodated her by getting us to our car as quickly as possible and pointing every fan they could find in her direction.
• You know your son is tired when he won’t wake up to go get pizza and ice cream.
• I now have a firm agreement from Irish Woman to move back to North Dakota as soon as I can find a way to guarantee that her bourbon will not turn to slush, parts of her anatomy will not freeze solid and snap off, and Boo has finished school.
• After a week of being to see the horizon as a faraway line, Kentucky feels almost claustrophobic.

• Only mad dogs and Cub Scouts go out in the noon day sun.
• It’s amazing how quickly a ten year old boy’s minor scrape escalates to “I think I’m going to die!” when a teenage girl asks him if he’s OK.
• Apparently, to ten year old boys, a couple of raccoons checking the trash can at 1 in the morning sounds like a herd of ravenous bears.
• I’d like to thank Irish Woman for the new cot, because I’m officially too bloody old to sleep on the ground if there’s any other option.
• I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:  If you give a Cub / Boy Scout a pack, he will acquire enough gadgets to fill it.
• Boys who spent half the night yelling and hooting at each other had to be convinced to shout commands during a flag ceremony.