The Small Stuff

Hello friends, took a break for a while to get my head and heart in sync, no worries, both still operational, just in need of slight attitude adjustment. No better medicine than a road trip chasing warm sunshine with as much adventure as these old bones can handle.

Piled up on the sofa, watching The Grinch movie with granddaughters the night before heading out. I've seen the movie a few hundred times so can relate to the grizzly animal, bloodshot eyes, fuzzy green hair and a wicked temper. Christmas with my littles is a true blessing every year, yet I can commiserate with the miserable geezer, sometimes the Whoville Who's are a bit too chipper on a frigid January evening, holidays over, time to get out of town.

Slipping into the pre-dawn gloom, streets desolate before the sun's magic pumps life into this weathered river town. Morning mist blurs the landscape, rolling past Paul's BFF, a depressed diesel mechanic waves a teary goodbye to his paycheck for a few months. Paul claims old Red's engine is bulletproof, I believe it, just about everything else has hit the junkyard, remarkably the engine is still humming strong, it's got cat lives to spare.

Frosty Iowa fading in the rearview while Duke, our mangy Chihuahua bobblehead, a thick gold chain around his scrawny neck guides us south from his throne on the dash of Paul's old Dodge. Duke's been with us since a Texas Walmart parking lot encounter several years ago nearly made us owners of a motley crew of pathetic shaking mutts huddled together in a cardboard box scrawled with "pups for cheap" trembling uncontrollably on the tailgate of an old rusty pickup. Paul looked into those huge brown eyes, dreams of playing fetch, long walks, fishing trips with his tiny Chihuahua buddy flashed. Reality check, our kids barely survived our parenthood and the real deal breaker, people would actually see Paul outside, in plain view, walking a Chihuahua. Duke the bobblehead was a gift from friends, aptly named for Paul's favorite cowboy. The perfect companion, no maintenance, no vet bills, no poop, no barking, no drama, only genuine unadulterated adoration in that wobbly mug of his, and we don't ever feel horrible about leaving him on his own to guard the truck. Duke's a real champ.

There is no question Duke and the Dodge will outlive us both, our sons will not only inherit a "retro" gem with over 200K spine-tingling miles, but a faithful Chihuahua whose rear end is permanently stuck to the dash. No extra charge, guys.