2048 is our year

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We had a great Christmas, everyone got nice things and George still has a week off work to pace around the house. Unfortunately, all of our new toys require being outside to play with them, and the weather has been crap, so we’re holed up at the farm, plotting to take over the world.

Just kidding, it only seems like it because both the Georges got quad-copters for Christmas and weather hasn’t permitted that they fly them outside, so they’re terrorizing the cat by flying them inside. I swear to everything holy, the first one of them to fly a drone into my hair will suffer.

(For the thousands of other people who bought the little flying machines at a truck stop as a gift for someone, and wondered if they were worth the money, they’re cool. You did good. They’re having a ball with them, and every cat on earth hates your guts.)

It’s very weird to have this much time at home without being strangled by panic from not rolling the wheels. I’ll admit the unease has seeped through a couple of times — then I remind myself the truck isn’t broken, George reminds me he is on vacation, and after he spends another week prowling the carpet off the floor, we’re going back on the road. (Unless someone gets a drone stuck in my hair, or otherwise injures my general person with a quad copter, rendering me unable to travel and highly irritated.)

Dennis Mintling (left), seed for truck stop legendsDennis Mintling (left), seed for truck stop legends

Our buddy Dennis has a running joke about having a time machine. He and his wife are fun as hell to run with — he’ll come on the CB with, “Hey, I got some info on 2048, go on up to 21, I’ll share it,” and as he’s regaling us with funny, completely made-up stories about the future, I’m thinking about the people around us who were nosy enough to go up to 21 and have no clue of the inside joke. Mintling has probably been a seed for half the incredible stories told around the Counter of Knowledge.

According to his time machine calculations, 2048 is our year. Unfortunately, we’ll be 87 and 88 years old by then, and probably won’t be able to enjoy the island he says we’ll own. That’s OK, I’m not sure I could handle the pressure of owning anything bigger than a truck. Can you imagine how much it costs when an island breaks? I’ll forgo those panicky thoughts and enjoy our week at home, and stick to looking forward to 2016.

Be safe out there.

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