I'm dialed in from my brother's laptop, in Florida. Still no cell phone minutes, but I now know I can check email and LJ. So it is good.
Highlights of the trip:
Pulling out of our neighborhood and passing a car whose driver made a very incredulous face at us, probably because Daisy the Saint Bernard was sitting in the back seat on about a foot and a half of padding, and therefore looked very, very tall.
Seeing an eighteen wheeler with "Perdido Trucking Service" on the door of the cab, and thinking that "perdido" - "lost" in Spanish - is a terrible name for a trucking company. And, shortly thereafter, the realization that I knew the word not because of the eight years of Spanish that I took in high school and college, but because of the 101 Dalmatians book on tape. Not the Disney version, the original by Dodie Foster, which is excellent, by the way.
Not taking a detour through Mobile, for a change. Last time I was following my mother; she was bringing my brother's car back to him, and I was following in mine. Somewhere in Mobile, she did a random loop at an intersection for reasons I wondered about all the way to the coast; turned out she was looking for an exit we'd already passed. We caught it this time.
Speculating with my mother about whether, should one of us win a trip to London to meet Justin Timberlake, they would actually make us meet him or if we could stand him up and enjoy the trip that much more. This after several repetitions of a radio promotion for a "lustin' for Justin" contest.
Debating with my mother as to whether or not one can have a beach club in a town with no beach. They've just opened one in Columbus, MS, nowhere near a beach of any kind.
Discovering that you can get twelve-packs of Cherry Coke in the Destin supermarkets. You can't find it anywhere in Starkville any more.
Watching Daisy try to climb into a rocking recliner. She made it up, but it shook badly, and she was very dismayed until my brother held it for her so she could lie down.
We brought Daisy with us this time since she's my brother's dog. She'll be staying at least as long as I am, and maybe after. For a huge dog - she's trim, but she is a Saint Bernard - she travels remarkably well. Curled up and slept most of the way, and didn't even vulture for my french fries. Unlike some chihuahuas I could name.
Now my mother and my brother are watching the Sopranos downstairs, so I'm taking advantage of the not-nearly-as-bad-as-advertised internet connection to catch up on things. Later I will avail myself of the Longshot trade paperback in the other room.
Life is good.
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