Conversing while traversing

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“You guys should have your own reality TV show.”

Some things have to be processed before speaking about them.Some things have to be processed before speaking about them.

We hear that a lot, and we’ve actually been approached briefly, but when we refused to “re-create” our latest argument with some “suggestions” as to how to go about arguing with each other, we quit hearing from the producers and were glad of it. We don’t want to be the Lizard Lick Dynamic Duo of trucking, and quite frankly, our time together in the truck is pretty boring. People would probably be disappointed with most of the events in a regular day – you can only be horrified by being cut off in traffic so many times before it just becomes a regular thing, and you don’t even scream “Oh lord, we’re going to die” anymore after five or six times.

When I’m actually sitting beside him, George really doesn’t have much to say to me other than, “Are you seriously still leaning forward into my mirrors, after all this time?” Conversely, he also makes a point to reach over and take my hand once a day, kiss it, and ask me if he’s told me how much he loves me. Because he’s awesome like that. I will admit that we see something on the road or hear something on the CB at least once a day that you absolutely wouldn’t see or hear anywhere else, but we don’t verbalize much about it, because we’re experiencing it together and much like alien abduction, some of the things we see and hear have to be mentally processed before speaking of them. (Reference: North Georgia mountain area – guy with a tower who walks all over channel 19 and repetitively meows like a cat or blows raspberries for hours on end. Why? Just why??)

Our entertainment lies in the long-distance phone conversations. When we’re apart, we talk at least three times a day, for 30 or 45 minutes each time — sometimes longer, depending on the craziness happening on each end. We communicate verbally a helluva lot more when he’s away than we do when we’re in the cab together, and the conversations can get admittedly weird, especially if we’re both tired, or don’t have a good connection.

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“I treated the dogs for fleas, the stuff is supposed to kill ticks and eggs, too.”

“What the hell did you do??”

“I treated the dogs for fleas and ticks, gah, don’t get all upset about it.”

“I thought you said you licked the dogs legs.”

“Um. Gross. Why would I even lick the dogs legs?”

“Well yeah, I was wondering, that’s why I sounded upset.”

“Meow. Pffft.”



“Did you just meow like a cat?”

“No, I was busy licking the dogs legs, I can’t meow with fur in my mouth – hey, speaking of the cat, I ordered him a tiny cat vest so I can put a leash on him and take him on walks with us.”

“Didn’t you try that once already and almost need stitches?”

“Oh come on, he wants to go outside so bad. He sits in the window with a little sad face when I take the dogs out. This one has a handle on it, so I can grab him if he freaks out.”

“Right. You may want to rethink grabbing a freaked out cat by the handle and bringing him close to your body. Do me a favor, have Georgie take some pictures of your face before you try this, so I can remember you the way you are.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

“Meow. Pfffft.”

Communication. That’s what it’s all about.