Today is a big day. I get my car back. Of course, I have to drive to Visalia to do it. Michael and I picked Visalia since it’s semi half way and we can visit the old man. My dad. I would like to drive my car. The Crosstour is nice but I’m ready to have mine.
I am leaving for Visalia at 1 to 130. So I tried to hurry through my morning which, as I expected, did not work. After all was done, I got to work at 11. Not early. I was not expecting much at work, which shows I should probably curb my expectations. By that I mean have none. I had an associate, Hal Brown, show up for an unscheduled meeting. Now I am glad he shows up and we can discuss our ongoing cases. Today is not the day. I had to multi task while we talked. I only have two hours to work. I had to have him repeat himself a few times. I don’t really multitask. Our meeting lasted over an hour, till I left actually. Hal is also getting me cheap phones through a friend. Half price Apple XRs. Works for me. As a matter of fact later today he did call and the phones have shipped. Hallelujah.
Time has come to say sayonara. To Sacramento. I popped into hwy 99, 1/4 mile from the office. Now my mobile home for the next 210 miles. 99 is ugly and boring. Over the last couple years it’s been widened. That means more traffic. This trip was no exception. It’s a 3 1/2 hour drive most Fats. Today, 4 3/4 hours. The traffic was horrendous. Awful. Egregious. Several times grinding to a halt. Where the hell does anyone have to go in the Central Valley of CA. The Valley is referred to as the New Appalachia. For good reasons – poverty, substance abuse, teen pregnancy. I can get you a brochure if you wish to visit. So why traffic? I am thinking these folks have nothing to do except annoy the hell out of us carpetbaggers. So they make traffic. I hate them. The valley is past the edge of civilization. Way past. It is in actuality a cesspool. With emphasis on the cess. People that live get excited cuz that means they got a swimming hole. At least, having the valley, gives California a place for poor white trash to live. If you call this living. I don’t.
Pulled in at Dads house at about 615. The traffic had cleared just south of Fresno so the last 35 miles were nice. That stretch of road does smell like the inside of a cow but at least the drive was fast.
My car, with the kids in it, showed up about 630. They had zero traffic. Pricks. They got the nice drive.
We have a dinner reservation at 730 in a fancy Italian place. We are taking Dad of course. He always pays. I have on my finest plaid shorts and a t shirt. With my slippers cuz I forgot shoes when I left. Well, if you guessed I am over dressed for a fancy place in Tulare on a Friday night, you would be correct. If you don’t understand, read prior description of valley. I mean, I have all my original teeth. I just don’t fit in.
Dinner was very good. Even though location says no. Who knew Tulare could support this. No one. I had a red snapper in marinara with capers. Excellent. Yes, I know seafood this far from the coast means it was frozen. But, it was excellent. The kids split an 18oz rib eye. Dad wanted the rack of lamb but it was 49.95. He said, too pricey. So he got a $42 ribeye. That makes sense. Even the waitress joked. Dad was oblivious.
We zipped home from there. Dad missed his turn but he has only lived here 48 years. Michael helped him naivigate a new route.
We watched the World Series game when we returned. I went to bed at inning 14. I am tired.