You might be surprised to learn that Christian likes to fly less than I do. I was really (pause here and let that last word soak in….REALLY…) worried that she was going to freak out on the plane, thus making me freak out. We decided to keep the chances of that to a minimum with the help of our old friend, the screwdriver.

Christian has a friend with a list of saying that he is searching for the perfect moment to say them. We almost got the chance to use one prior to boarding the plane, but this priest was on the pre-board list. But what the heck, “Not today, Padre!”

After blowing through a stack of drink coupons on our one-hour flight (yes it is only an hour, but it is to turbulence land, otherwise known as Amarillo), we realized we could not drive the 90 miles to Dalhart without an automatic time-out. No one was available to come get us, so we decided to see a movie. Sadly, we picked “I Am Legend” on the recommendation of some very misguided friends who from this point forward can not be taken seriously…ever.

Some people have a problem with my corporate cup, but this heathen needed a triple-shot!

While driving, we did a lot of politically incorrect humor-making.

After a viewing at the funeral home, I was feeling unnerved. While inside I couldn’t get to close to the casket. (I swear I was going to get grabbed!) To shake it all off we drove half a block (how L.A.!) and ran to the 50 yard line at the football stadium. Christian can still sing the fight song (and do an odd marching-type-thing).

While I can hold the press box between my hands! I swear I saw Zach Braff and Natalie Portman coming around the corner.

As we were going down my dad’s street there was a wreck. Some guy had crashed into a tree and while he sat on the corner looking unhappy with himself, about 25 other people were milling about. Two things: I’m not sure where these people came from! 25 people don’t even live on that street. Secondly, I found it ironic that the only 2 other people to probably have a wreck on that street were in our car! The folks at the crash site were not happy when we circled the block a snapped a picture, but I like the fact that you can see Christian and the camera in the side mirror.

We had dinner at Bar-H. The only thing that has changed about the place since I was a kid is the name. (It used to be called K-Bobs, God bless’em!) I caught Christian at the salad bar, one of the only places in the panhandle where vegetables are legal.


There was a group of red hats behind us. We were informed the next day (the joy and curse of the small town) that several of those women had some unkind things to say about our table, thus they get a slot in the log.

What we a quick trip like this be without a quick hello with mi Madre!

Driving into the cemetery…as barren and depressing as ever.

My sisters, Leslie and Christian, on our way back from our grandparents grave. Even though I haven’t been there since they died over 10 years ago, I was able to find it with out a moment of hesitation—weird. This was also the point in our journey where Leslie used the unfortunate phrase, “baby garden.” I know that this is an accepted cemetery term, but I can’t say I approve (calling it that or visiting one).

My sisters and my dad; sadly, Jenny had developed a serious version of the flu and couldn’t be there.

The blue Carola, aka the tin can. For anyone that drives one of these, I feel for you. I don’t think you could increase the road noise if you played it through the speakers!

The pre-flight ritual. Notice how Christian hides behind the screwdriver.

It may be bumpy, but our stewardess doesn’t mind. I think we need to take the hint and just get over it already. Too bad saying that doesn’t make it happen.

Ahhh…landing! The closer we get to the ground, the bigger our smile becomes! Terra Firma! We survived 24 hour trip, and you survived this photo log!