I have a video of the hailstorm and all its loud fury but blogger is not cooperating.
Here is a picture of a tumbleweed instead:
|And also Jas's behind.|
Yesterday we crossed the Mojave Desert, again. It was 105 degrees, the sky was white with heat, haze, and the funk of approaching Los Angeles, and the pavement so hot that Jas jumped back in the truck as soon as her feet hit the ground.
|Ah, the lovely smog|
of southern California.
In between those two days as we headed west and up in altitude into Wyoming, we were treated with a loud POP! as the bag of tortillas exploded.
|Ooh, and traffic too!|
I want to live here.
Such is the trucking life.
Remember how I said way back a long time ago, that we were soon quitting the trucking life?
We had forcast that we would be home by May but it didn't work out. The sage grouse were having sex, for one thing.
Poor ugly things need all the help
they can get.
Did you know that Wyoming's sage grouse population is in decline but they are still considered a game bird and you can kill one during the right season in Wyoming? To make up for the fact that you can't disturb them when they have sex, presumably.
It's not really their fault we couldn't stay home, but the best laid business plans of mice and sage grouse and men, often go awry when you think you have a job but don't.
I'm only saying this because I'm getting all kinds of new readers and I don't want them to feel ripped off and confused when we do get home and I quit blogging about the exciting road life and start blogging about how our local Safeway is out of chicken, again.
So maybe the uncertainty of our life and future can be looked at as a selfless act to keep you dear people from having to read boring chicken crises.