What a lovely thing to which to come home!

Yes, in typical J/B family fashion, the worst and/or stupidest possible thing that could happen, did. Robert was driving my van through Hardesty, all four blocks of that thriving metropolis, when the gods of fate snapped out of a light doze and thought, "Oh my Us! Things have been FAR too quiet in the J/B household! Why, you might even say it's been a bit boring, all this lacking in drama. We'd better get on the stick!"

So then Robert hit a horse.

It was dark and raining and he was only going about 30 mph but there stood the beast in the middle of the road in down"town" Hardesty. Whammo. First he thought it was a cow, because he really didn't see it that well and when he went back to look for it the animal had fled (without even bothering to leave a note, can you imagine?) He had been able to perceive that it had been larger than a deer and so automatically assumed cow. But then I got home and took a look at the damage; particularly this:

Now, my grasp of physics and my spatial perception isn't the greatest but I'm pretty sure that a cow could not smash in the entire windshield, top to bottom, excepting for if it had become airborne and then landed on the van (note: this did not happen). The only thing tall enough, by my reckoning, to create this kind of damage this high on the vehicle would be a horse. Additionally, the hairs stuck to the front of the car look suspiciously equine. So that's the explanation we're going with at this point unless some other ungulate wants to step up and claim responsibility.

This looks rather painful. I do hope if it was a horse it found its way home and is receiving medical attention. That way I can go back and shoot it later, right after I give the farmer the bill for the insurance deductible.

In evidence of our recently-improved luck we at least have good insurance coverage. We will have to pay the $750 deductible; however, it's going to cost considerably more than that to put the thing to rights. (If this had happened three or four years ago it would've probably happened in a microsecond-long window in which we had no insurance coverage and it would've been four horses with rabies and highly contagious VD and the van would've been totalled and Robert hospitalized or, quite possibly, dead. So, you know, things have improved somewhat.)

Note the distinct lack of a rearview mirror or antenna.

Our kick-ass insurance also covers a rental car for up to $50 a day for 20 days. We've already picked up a nice Toyota Sienna from the local Enterprise office. (Me: "Maybe we can get the Odyssey fixed and just give it to Enterprise and keep this Toyota." Robert: "Have you ever been tested for adult ADD?")

Anyway, so it's business as usual at our house. Apparently our bad car mojo has mutated in order to continue dogging us. We blocked the way it used to manifest itself, as mechanical troubles, by buying two super-reliable cars (a Honda and a Nissan). So now it's made a lateral move to continual body damage. For those following along at home we have had this van less than six months. Prior to the Mr. Ed Incident it was already sporting this...

...a result of some asshat backing into it in a parking garage in OKC a week after we got it. And at some point while we were gone someone hit Robert's car with something heavy, possibly trying to break into it as it sat in our driveway. There's a large ding at the top of one of the rear passenger doors, right next to the window, and also scrapes down the glass.

I'm telling you, people, you can't make this stuff up. And the only appropriate response, I've learned, is to laugh incredulously. Because, really, who else on earth but one of us would run over Trigger in the middle of beautiful downtown Hooterville, Oklahoma?

Since the day before I left Oklahoma I have been carrying that entreaty in my signature on some message boards where I'm a regular. "Follow our mega-trip adventures at my blog", handily hyperlinked to the URL you are currently visiting. Unfortunately my blogging over the past five-plus weeks has amounted to one brief report of something funny the kids said and two drive-by entries bemoaning my lack of entries. Hmmm. Somewhere along the way my good intentions were derailed and I've never been able to get them back on track.

It's not for lack of things to report; oh, no. We have done nothing but run up and down the state since we've been here. We've been as far south as Santa Barbara and as far north as Livermore. I've driven to the San Jose area and back three times, not counting coming down from the airport when we arrived. We've done so much (and been here so long) I'm having a hard time remembering what we did in the first week after we got here.

I'll shamefacedly admit that part of my problem, I think, is Facebook and probably Twitter, too. I have been updating quite often in both those places and I suspect that, once done, that satisfies my urge to share and I have no motivation to post here. So, um, hooray, social networking sites?

Surprisingly enough, despite all the things we've done I'm still feeling like we should've done more. Even with all the planning and all the time there are still things I didn't even come close to accomplishing and, frankly, I'm sitting here scratching my head over how I managed to miss this or that. Alas, that's always the way of it with me. There just isn't enough time to do everything I intend to do while I'm here. It's one of the hazards of only being here 2-3 times a year. To really do everything I want we'd have to live here. Which we'd totally do were it up to me. But that's another post for another day (and quite possibly for a therapist).

I really do have a lot to tell if I can ever get a move on. I think, instead of doing one massive, rambling synopsis of the trip I will do a number of shorter entries telling the story of individual experiences. And I also think that I will wait to get started until we get home. Tomorrow is a busy day. Mom and I are doing some last-minute shopping, I'm picking up the rental car for our return trip to San Jose International and I must pack all of our things into a box and drop it at UPS. It will be a typical last day in California -- too brief, melancholy and tinged with regret.

On that happy note, friends, I bid you good night. Next time I write I will be 1500 miles away and considerably deflated. Thank goodness Paul will be there soon to help pull me out of the lowlands.

Two words: Vegas, baby.

Robert and I are dashing to Vegas tomorrow for a quick overnight. We're going to Cirque du Soleil's LOVE, which I've been waiting three years now to see. Following that will be dinner at Delmonico's. Our partners in crime will be our friends Dave and Andrea from Milwaukee. We've wanted to meet up to see the show ever since it started but it just never worked out....till now.

We're rolling out at 8 a.m. to begin our triumphant return. It's been five years since we've been to Vegas, y'all. We, who used to go 2-3 times per year. This has really fugged up our average.

If there is such a thing as a spare minute in Vegas, hopefully I'll find time to blog. Although my track record since I arrived in CA doesn't exactly inspire confidence in that department.

In summary: Steak and contortionists, WHEEEEEE!!!!!

I'm still here. Still having fun. Busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. Trying to get up the gumption to post but the more time goes by the more I have to talk about and the less energy I have to write it all out. Le sigh.

I promise I will post something tomorrow, though. I'm promising myself, since I'm sure I'm the only one who's really bothered by it!

Thanks for being patient; don't give up on me.