Well, we got home about an hour and a half ago. An uneventful trip, with nary a speck of snow or ice on the highways. And we made good time both ways; six and a half hours to get to Rapid, and only six and a quarter getting back (with a head wind). Think the wife was cheating on the speed just a little on the last leg home.

Eldest son remembered something he had forgotten just as we were pulling out the driveway. When he ran in the house to get it, he caught the heeler mom raiding the trashcan. Not 30 seconds after we left the house.

Stupid heeler. If you're gonna do bad things, at least watch out the window until the people drive away.

Somewhere east of Orin Junction the wife suddenly exclaimed, "Hey! Look at what we picked up!" With her hand pointing towards the front of the vehicle. I expected to see some splattered bird on the hood, but no, nothing there. Then I looked where her finger was pointing.

There, in front of the driver's seat, stuck on the outside of the windshield just underneath the wiper, was...

A mosquito.

A freshly deceased mosquito, spinning around in the wind, attached by the guts squished from the tip of its abdomen.

"It's January, you stupid bug," she chided the carcass. Yeah, and we're at least 42 degrees up into the Northern Hemisphere.

As in, it's winter here, and has been for months. I have no idea where that thing came from.

A few miles on we stopped at one of state's newer reststops. You know, one of the ones with light sensors to activate the toilets, urinals, water and driers? Clean, fresh and shnazzy.

Did notice one problem. Has automatic doors for the handicapped, with big metal plates besides the doors to activate the mechanism. Inside is okay, but the outside button is directly across the wall from the inside one (to save on wiring, I suppose). But unfortunately, this places the outside door button about a foot out from the sidewalk, over the gravel bed and juniper shrub.

Might be kind of hard for someone in a wheelchair to reach, without putting it into 4-wheel drive.

Also was my first encounter with a "Smoker's Cauldron". Wife had seen them before, though, so maybe I'm just not paying attention. These are big sand-filled pots for cigarette butts and ashes, but instead of an open ashtray that also collects trash (which blows out in the wind), these have a skinny two-foot high spout that comes straight up, with a small opening for the butts.

For all purposes, it looks exactly like a giant ceramic Christmas bubble light. Does everybody else already have these?

I think we ought to paint them bright red, yellow and green like the lights.

This is a nicely landscaped reststop, nestled up against a low hill. On a low rise, in the middle of the "Pet Run" section, is a large granite marker, surrounded by narrow gravel beds. Checked it out as I gave the little maskless heeler a bathroom break.

It's a grave. Not just a marker, but the bona fide final resting place for George Lathrop, one of the pioneers on this old stage route.

They took an old "Historic Marker" pulloff and made it into a nice reststop. And then surrounded the grave with the pet toilet.

I don't know. I obviously didn't know George. Maybe he was the type of guy who would have preferred natural vegetation and the company of shitting dogs to manicured lawns and picnicking people.

Took a few catnaps on the drive up, and then started working on one of the Sunday crosswords. And managed to get it almost all done, asking the wife for help when I got stuck (this isn't necessarily that easy... I have rules for crosswords, the main one being that you have to start with either 1-across or 1-down, and can then only write in words that connect to existing words that have been solved. No jumping around.).

But the point of mentioning this?

Eldest son chimed in. Several times. With words we hadn't figured out. Without being snide about it.

A real pleasant family activity. Felt good.

He musta been really bored.

When we reached the dorm parking lot and got out, the wife jokingly told eldest son "I hope you've got your keys."

His face fell and the hands went diving into the pockets. And then into the coat pockets. And then into the travel bag.

No keys. Not even into the dorm building.

A quick cell call to youngest son, 370+ miles and >6 hours away, confirmed that the keys were still on the dining room table (which is still in the living room, as the Christmas tree claims the dining room).

And, according to the notice posted on the dorm door, eldest son mis-remembered the opening date for the dorms. As in not until tomorrow.

This was all too funny to get upset about.

Not to mention, all three of us were desperate to pee, having bypassed all convenience store latrines with plans of using the dorm facilities.

So, after a quick detour to the restrooms at the Geology Museum (and a quick nod to any of you who may have been watching on the livecam therein), we attempted to locate an official University-type person on a Sunday afternoon, between terms.

And succeeded. Got him in just fine, no problems. But if he leaves anytime before the keys arrive in his mail, he's on his own to get back in.

He has a new roomate this term, one without a refrigerator. So we also detoured to WalMart to buy him one, and complain about how high our local prices are compared to theirs.

He looked even lonelier and lost this time than when the wife dropped him off for the fall term. Silhouetted against the only lit window in the building as he watched us and his heeler drive away.

Glad we let him keep Everquest.

Wife did all the driving, as usual. Near as I can figure, I had only four functions this trip.

1. Carry the refrigerator.

2. Stand in the wind to pump the gas.

3. Pick all the onions off the wife's sandwich, since she forgot to ask for it without.

4. Stay awake and talk to her for the last third of the drive home (along with 15 miles of massage).

And now, she's sleeping soundly, and I'm still awake with a caffeine buzz.