Summer Vacation, Day 7

Today we loaded up the rental van for the drive to Nevada.

I haven't seen this road sign in a few years, but it was always one of my favorites here. I hadn't thought of it until someone recently sent it to me:





After we got on the road, we noticed a piece of paper tucked under a windshield wiper. At 75 mph it blew loose. plastering itself for a few seconds across the driver’s side. We had a brief glimpse of “GOT JESUS?” spread across windshield bug stains before it blew away into the desert.

During the ride we passed through an area with a previously unknown weather phenomenon. Every few miles was an electronic sign flashing "DANGER! HIGH WINBS!" I can only assume this rates with frost heaves as a serious event.

Road trips are always interesting. You see advertisements for movies you never thought of, such as “The Romance and Sex Life of the Date” sponsored by Shield’s Fig & Date plantation. We also saw signs for a place in Nevada selling “Fresh Alien Jerky”.


We stopped in rural Nevada to visit Mrs. Grumpy’s 95-year-old grandfather. Marie asked him for some water, and he brought her a cup. He than launched into a story about how, when he was her age, they used to get his family's water from a pond that always had sheep shit floating on the surface.

After hearing this charming tale Marie stared at her untouched water glass for a minute, then said "Grampa, do you have anything that comes in cans, like Diet Coke?"

I genuinely like her grandfather. He’s an intelligent self-made, self-educated guy. He’s also pretty much blind now. So when other family came over to his place to greet us, we noticed how they carefully avoided using his plates and utensils for dinner (they brought their own disposables). Upon examination I discovered that the majority of his dishes had things encrusted on them. Trying to be helpful, I began washing them, only to be told not to since it offended the man. So I settled on finger-foods, too.

While reviewing the pictures from the beach I found this one of a sand castle washing away, which someone took when I wasn't looking. And that's all I'm going to say.





After dinner we were out for ice cream with some cousins when my cell phone rang. It came up as the ID for Dr. Brain's (my call partner) office.

Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy."

Maxine: "This is Maxine, with Dr. Brain's directory. He'd like you to do a consult for him at Local Hospital."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm not on call. He is."

Maxine: "Well, our schedule says that, too. But he was quite adamant that you are tonight, and told us to call you."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm in Chickenranch, Nevada."

Maxine: "What are you doing there?"

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm on vacation."

Maxine: "Why would you go there for vacation? Isn't Vegas nicer?"

Dr. Grumpy: "I have in-laws here. Look, the bottom line is that I'm far away, and I'm not even on call."

Maxine: "Does that mean you can't do the consult?"


We've camped out tonight in a remote relative’s basement (at Mrs. Grumpy’s insistence, she didn’t want to offend anyone). Normally cousin Eddie uses the basement to store his unfinished projects. Unfortunately, his hobby is taxidermy. So we're spending the night staring at partially-stuffed deer, elk, and bighorn sheep, who are staring back at us.

Sweet dreams.