Franklinsanity

2:24 PM, somewhere past Vacaville on I-80 N.

Let’s clarify a few things.

ABOUT OUR CAR: A VW Tiguan, according to Car and Driver Magazine, is “basically a Golf on stilts.”  So, that’s our x-country vehicle, folks.  Not really all that roomy.  Yet It’s nice and black and brand new (for some reason the people at the dealership just gave us a 2015 model in return for our old one).  Other nice people at the car wash pointed out it it also has a long scratch on the passenger side.  Not sure Kelly knows this; I’m not going to mention it.  Like I said, STREET.

ABOUT OUR DOGS:  They are miniature golden doodles.  A manly breed.  For a man.  Assuming that man likes that his dogs’ classification rhymes with one of the silliest-sounding words in the English language.  In any case, they’re minis because their dads are miniature poodles.  They have the same mom, who is a full-size golden doodle, the hussy.  They’re supposed to be around 25 lbs, but Kingsley – or “Mr. The King” as we often call him – is more like 45 pounds of hyper-intelligent, needy affection.  He’s also not golden.  He’s black.  Oonagh The Red Dragon (thank you, Goffin girls) is the expected size, and color.  She’s also, always, up to no good.  Except so far on this trip, she’s been a breeze.  Mr. The King is at present trying to climb onto Ted’s head as he naps.

WHAT WE’RE WEARING:  Her:  Banana Republic blue-and-white striped sun dress and Toms.  No-name-brand sunglasses.  Him:  Dior, with a cowboy hat from Cavender’s, near Dallas.  The Kids:  Vinyard Vines.  Pop Quiz, readers; how much of this section is true?

WHY WE’RE ON THIS TRIP:  Our dogs hate flying.  And we respect our dogs.  And, as the name of the blog suggests, we’re a bit daft.