The Unwritten Rules of Truck Stop Bathrooms.

When you're trucking across the country, the first thing you look for at a truck stop is the bathroom. But as any traveler knows, public restrooms have a secret code of etiquette. Ladies, we all know the rules—the ones no one teaches us, but we follow like gospel.

Rule #1: The Long-Distance Stall Strategy.

If you have to do more than a quick tinkle, you go to the very last stall.

As if distance alone can hide noise, shame, or… aroma.

Rule #2: The Pre-Surgical Seat Scrub.

Once inside, you scrub the seat like you’re prepping for surgery.

Antibacterial wipe, elbow grease, the whole ritual.

So there I was — fifteen empty stalls to choose from — and out of pure habit I marched straight to the end stall.

Just in case.

You know… noise. Smell. Humanity.

I’m sitting there, panties around my ankles, when suddenly the stall door next to me SLAMS.

The Day I Officially Lost My Sanity

                                       

(I pulled this one out of the mothballs from when Van and I lived on the truck for five years .) 

I’ve been living on a truck for week now. 

I marked that day in my memory as the moment I officially lost my sanity.

Take two people who have sorta been married for 28 years.

He lived on a truck.

She didn’t.

Now shove them together in a cab the size of a walk in closet for twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, months at a time.

“One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus” hits different out here.

Miss Chief and the Case of the Missing Guppy

My niece, Jana bought three guppies for her three kids and set them up in a little fishbowl.

One day, they got a floater. A fish passed.

Jana did what every good mother does: held a solemn toilet-side funeral and flushed the dearly departed.

Down to two.

A few days later, Jana walks by the bowl… and now there’s only one. 

The CSI: GAMERS EDITION

The suspects claim innocence, but the cat looks like he knows too much

                                

I wasn't here to witness the mayhem, but I did see the video.

My daughter tells her husband and my grandsons, “Mema will be here tomorrow, so clean the house.”  

Of course, the boys don’t do a thing. They’re gaming, chilling, living their best lives… until they realize: Mom will be home in ten minutes. DEFCON 1 panic.  

What’s their solution? Grab a vacuum? Pick up the laundry? Nope. Genius plan: stage a home invasion. Maybe she’ll be so grateful they're alive she won’t notice the mess. 

 

They blacken Captain Chaos eye with shoe polish, tie him to a chair with a pillowcase over his head, and scatter broken glass from the trash all over the floor. It was a crime scene straight out of CSI: Gamers Edition. And of course, Dad’s filming. Why clean when you can go viral? 

How I Almost Fried the Nephew-In-Law

                                          

                                                              

My brother Buddy invited me to visit. (He lost his partner of eighteen years just nine months after I lost my husband, so we’ve been keeping each other company.)

I love his patio — could practically live out there. Honestly, I actually do whenever I’m with him.

One sunny afternoon, Buddy ran an errand, leaving me home alone. Dangerous idea. I really do need a little supervision.

Sun streaming through the house, I noticed the kitchen light still on. Being helpful is my hobby… and sometimes a contact sport. I flipped every switch I could find.

The View From Van's Hill

                                              

                                                   

The View from Van’s Hill

(I Brought Lunch. They Brought the Silence)

Yesterday was the four-year anniversary of Van taking up permanent residence on the hill...

I always decorate Van’s grave, take his favorite food and sit for a while, reflecting on the good years.

 
JoDee packed a picnic lunch to eat by the pond.

From his spot, the pond below sparkles like it’s trying to show off. It’s peaceful, with trees and moving water. The kind of place where you can breathe in the cool February air and feel the world slow down.

I have more people in that cemetery than I want to admit.

The Roll Call at Van’s Hill:

Chaos with a Soundtrack

  Stardew Valley Music Has Been Turned Into a Symphony

Stardew Valley is this cozy little farming game where people willingly spend hundreds of hours watering pixelated turnips like they’re running a vegetable empire. They chop trees, smash rocks, attend festivals where everyone pretends to be normal, and try not to collapse from exhaustion before the sun sets at 6 p.m. Too stressful for me. I retired after my character nearly died because I was running late from a festival and forgot to check the time. 

And now someone—some visionary or possibly a madman—decided to turn this into a symphony. A full orchestra. Violins. Cellos. French horns. Suddenly my little pixel farm feels very serious.

But the real question haunting me was: who exactly attends a Stardew Valley symphony?