Well, Amigos, I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet as we say down home in Texas which is where we find ourselves for a spell (another folksy term meaning however much time you want it to mean).   Yes, Pretty drove me and Spike and the old woman Slow the thousand miles from Casa de Canterbury to Worsham Street after the Outback Bowl last week and I can tell you drivin’ in the cab of the Dodge Dakota with a very large dog, two lesbians and all their assorted snacks for two days will work your last nerve.   You find yourself grateful for the little things in life – like La Quinta king-sized beds in one of their newly renovated hotels that manages to assign you to one of the UNRENOVATED rooms.  Geez Louise.  If Paw Licker Annie had been along, she would’ve never stayed in an unrenovated room.   Of course, The Red Man was exhausted at two o’clock in the morning so any port in a storm.

The next day we made a little stop in Utah, Alibaba (ed. note Eutaw, Alabama) because Pretty likes to search for antique stores which just may have the Ultimate Treasure Discovery Ever for her personal Road Show.

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Pretty and moi at Antique Store

As fate would have it, the AS didn’t open until one in the afternoon so we found ourselves on the outside lookin’ in.  Just because we wanted to go in didn’t mean we could go in.  Never mistake a wish for a certainty.  Heh, heh.   I stole that from the season premiere of Downton Abbey Sunday night on the Smart People’s Television Channel.   I love that show and I can’t figure out why I do because it doesn’t involve sports or awards or Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson of the LAPD and the theme music isn’t country legends.  Why do I find myself strangely attracted to British Lords and Ladies and their Help in the 1920s?    Maybe I feel Superior when I actually understand what they’re  sayin’  in their hoity toity accents that are a far cry from the Texas Twang or South Carolina drawl I’m used to.  The Red Man is Cosmopolitan and don’t you forget it.

Monday night it was TV as usual on Worsham Street when we watched the College Football Championship game with one of the Little Women of Worsham Street and that turned out to be a Big Game for the Crimson Tide and an embarrassment for the other team whose name shall not be spoken.  How bad was it, inquiring Sports Fans want to know?  It was SO BAD the ESPN commentators talked more about the Tide QB One’s hot Auburn girlfriend than his stellar passing performance.   Shit house mouse.  Come on  guys.  Surely the time has come for Brent Musburger to hang up the microphones and let a new generation of play-by-play callers take over.  Bye Bye Brent.  We’ll make sure you get an award for outlasting performance by a sports commentator.

Yesterday was a soggy blur.  Rain, rain go away and come again some other day, but not today.  Too late.  It’s here again today.  As Granny Selma used to say when she walked the earth, “Always smile more on cloudy days.”  Excuse me for stating  the obvious, but look where that sunshiny philosophy got her.

I’m worn out from the trip and the weather, but The Red Man’s glad to be back in the ‘Hood on Worsham Street for a spell.  He was wishing for more room on the sofa in Texas than he had at Casa de Canterbury when he had to share with the Pack.  Never mistake a wish for a certainty.

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The Red Man and Spike on the sofa at Worsham Street

Get me outta here Percy…time for me to catch a few zzz’s…