Franklinsanity

There are no butlers in Bakersfield.

There is, however, the Steak & Grape.  This proved to be an unbelievably friendly bar/restaurant tucked away in a mall (where else) in a part of California heralded by highway signs telling us to expect unusually heavy dust for the next 40 miles.

The steak was actually good (not to sound like an asshole; there seem to be plenty of cows around).  More surprisingly, Hard Hittin’ Wife enjoyed her scallops and pasta.  I thought that order a bold move, but the bartender swore by it, and HHW went for it.

The Kim Crawford SB was, as always, great.  No, I didn’t switch to red for the steak.

Get over it.

The dogs were welcome on the patio, and the amusingly large crowd of cougars and their plus ones didn’t seem to mind them.

T&Q worked their way through the first of days of road food – chicken strips and a burger.  I predict they’ll actually be desperate for veggies by the time we get to Santa Fe (and our first truly nice hotel).

I might have driven as much as HHW today, a real aberration – based on Franklinsanity2015.  Hard Hittin’ also barely twitched an eyelid at lane-changing and  boxing out of various jackasses whose move was to drive 95 in the slow lane, pull up behind the semi’s there, and then try to cut right without signaling.

I don’t know that I’m comfortable with this change in therapeutically-certified marital driving roles.

Plus, it makes it hard to provide meta-commentary on Harry Potter for the kids. Think of the kids, Kelly.  The kids!  So, here, honey, have some more coffee – it’s only another 5 hours to Flagstaff. Sure, we can keep the T-Pain voice on Waze (WTF, btw). You’re a much safer driver, anyhoo.

Kidding.  It’s more like 7.5. Speaking of, time to get some shut eye.  Big day tomorrow – maybe a swim in the AM, maybe a visit to Boot Barn (what could go wrong?).