I won't say I'm sorry you didn't make it home until I hear you had a horrible time 'out there' tomorrow, lol. One of the bestest thanksgivings I ever had was at a truckstop in Vermont, a little bitty one where my poor dog, Muttley, (may she r.i.p. for she was a damn good truckin' pooch, as well as a harley-rider) took a skunk shot full in the face while romping in the woods that flanked this rural truckstop on three sides.

My ex and I were the proud owners of a brand new truck at the time, and I mean BRAND spanking new, a 1989 White/GMC/Vulva (spelling intentional) conventional with a 425 cat/13 speed fuller, nicely equipped with an integrated sleeper entirely covered in *very* gay blue velour.

Haha, as much as we loved her, we were NOT enthused about letting her back in the truck! OMG she stank, she reeked, her putridity knew no boundaries and a mere trot-by brought tears to grizzled truckers eyes, grew hair when none had grown before, and would cause sterility if inhaled at close range.

But what could we do? It was cold out, oh so cold, and the only 'remedy' inside this little place was equally cold V8 juice, which we immediately bought several quarts of and began to soak her down, out near the pumps where the water hose could be had to rinse her off with when the horrid deed was done.

Poor Muttley, she was growing icicles on her fuzzy pantaloons.

The owner of the place took note, took pity, and came to our rescue, allowing us to walk this REEKING dog right through the dining room (where a good dozen or so not-too-happy-truckers were scarfing down a generic turkey dinner) in order to access the trucker's lounge, where another half dozen were nodding off or watching football, in order to take her into the showers, hahah.

Oh man, we washed that dog, we scrubbed that dog, we doused her with every acidic liquid we could find upstairs in the store. We got soaked in the process, and hadn't grabbed our own shower bags in our haste, and the end result was a soggy walk of semi-shame back through the lounge, dining room, and store, presumeably to spend the rest of the day (and the weekend) quarantined in our truck (with a still alarmingly stinky and now wet dog) where we could cause no more offense.

Hehe, it was not to be, though. The owner vacated the downstairs lounge area, invited us AND OUR DOG back in, and served us up a passable thanksgiving dinner on a scarred old coffee table previously reserved for boots.

On the house.

I could tell you about the rest of the weekend, but im sure you catch my drift. We had a wonderful time, to say the least. May serendipity find you tomorrow, Mason, and in a most unexpectedly pleasant way.