Posted by: jility | May 25, 2011

Things That Go Bump in the Day

It was bumpity bumpity bumpity, all the way up I-5 from Santa Nella to Yreka. Millie and MeMe rode with me in the Extortion but every time we hit bumps and the crates clanged, Millie freaked. So, when we stopped for gas in Lodi, Millie went back in the Global Warmer and Charisse Poodle came in the car with MeMe and me. Millie is always waiting for the sky to fall on her. You can take the dog out of the feral but you can’t take the feral out of the dog (or something like that). The California roads are miserable.

One of my favorite parts of the trip is seeing the large rusty metal cow along I-5 in Montague (just north of Weed). Mel & I always give a loud MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO as we pass. Because we now drive in separate vehicles, we exchange the MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOs on the walkie talkies. It is a fun ritual that always makes me smile (well, except for the time I was really pissed at Sir C for reasons that have long escaped me and I refused to MOO).


The farther north we went, the cloudier and colder it got. By the time we reached Red Bluff, it was 48 degrees and pouring down rain. I was talking to my friend Jef on the phone and told him how cold it was. He said it was going to snow when we got to the higher elevations but I said I didn’t think so and we laughed about one of our favorite “Barbaraism” regarding snow. As some of you may recall, I told a story about Sir Cussalot’s youngest daughter, Barbara in a blog. To refresh your memory, here is a link to that blog: Houston We Have a Striking Problem

Shortly after we moved to Washington in the late 70s, we had an unusually cold winter. The kids complained constantly about the rain and drizzle but enjoyed the rare snowfall. One day it was particularly cold and clouds were rolling in. Barbara came running into the house all excited. She looked at us grinning from ear to ear and exclaimed, “If it rains it’s gonna snow!” Yup, that is exactly what it did too.

I repeated her words to Jef and Sir C as we drove up the mountains towards Weed, hellhole of the West Coast. If I were to be punished, I would be banished to live in Weed, California or El Paso, Texas. I am not sure which one would be worse but my money is on Weed.

Sure enough, the temp dropped from 48 to 35 and, as the temp dipped, the rain simultaneously turned to snow. By the time we reached the top of the Weed hill, it was coming down in blizzard form. The flakes were huge and very wet so nothing stuck but it was very impressive to watch.

While on the subject of Barbaraisms, I will share another of my favorites. Shortly after the expose on formaldehyde, I had planned to throw away all the shampoos containing the newly condemned ingredient. Barbara was headed to the shower one day when I yelled after her, “Don’t use the [can’t remember which brand] shampoo!”

“Why?” she asked.

“Formaldehyde.” I answered.

“WHAT?” Her face wrinkled in total confusion.

“Formaldehyde, formaldehyde.” I said, not understanding why she was confused. It seemed so obvious to me. The formaldehyde issue had been all over the news for days. We didn’t have a lot of crappy news back then so the formaldehyde story was big.

Her look of bewilderment grew. She stood there staring at me. Finally, she said, “I don’t get it!”

“What don’t you get?” I asked incredulously.

Her answer?

“Why does dad want to hide the shampoo?”

I stood there thinking for a minute while my brain processed what she had said. Then it struck me and I began to laugh. I explained that Mel (her dad) did not want to hide the shampoo, the shampoo contained the chemical formaldehyde. To her defense, it does sound like “for Mel to hide.”

The Global Warmer is prone to overheating on big inclines. It happens more frequently in hot weather but I was curious how it was doing on the long mountainous climb out of Redding through Shasta. As we slowed to a crawl on the long steep stretch towards Weed, I called Sir C on the walkie talkie and asked, “What’s the engine temp?” He asked me to repeat it several times and finally, his irritation obviously mounting, said, “I have NO idea what the F#@% you are saying!” So I spoke very slowly once more and the response I got?




“Whiskey Indian Camp!”


Whiskey Indian Camp??? REALLY???

I told that story to Jef (who has the same warped sense of humor I do which is why we get along so well) and he responded that Whiskey Indian Camp might even be more fun than Bob Bailey’s chicken camp! I told Jef I was glad he called because I was giving Sir C all my good material but he had the “nuthin is funny traveling blues” and all my good stuff was falling on deaf ears. “What good stuff?” Jef asked.

“Well,”  I said, “I called him and said in fine Jerky Boyz style, “MY ASS IS KILLIN ME!” (and it was after the long ass drive)

So Sir C comes back with, “My back, neck, hamstring and knee are killing me!”

So I say, “Does you face hurt too?” But Sur C ignores me cause he KNOWS what’s comin next. And not  one to ever disappoint, I say, “Because it’s KILLIN me!”

No response but I can feel the disgust at the other end of the walkie talkie.

Jef laughs, however. My work is done. My day complete.

So, here we are in Yreka for the night. Tomorrow we make the last leg of the trip to Eugene for the Memorial Day weekend trial and PIZZA RESEARCH INSTITUTE BABY WITH JEF AND ROSSIE!!!! THE BEST PIZZA ON THE FREAKIN PLANET!!!

Thanks to my friends Stacy, Jef, Bob, Claudia and Susan for entertaining me on the long drive today ;).


  1. Hahahahaha!

  2. Your posts make my day! See you in Eugene.

  3. Having been to both, Weed wins over El Paso 🙂

  4. ahh, I’ve missed these posts. great story teller are you.
    Glad you will soon be back with your BFF’s and all the fun of someday summer.

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