Well, here we sit again.   Boy this week is not adding up to a lot so far.    We got in yesterday but they said load would be ready today.  Ok.   Called at 8 am and guy said our trailer was at the door and would be ready in a couple of hours.  Great!  10 am.  Head to Kraft (Oscar Mayer division) and we are told it’s not ready yet and will be a couple of hours.  I’m starting to see a pattern.  Just tell them two hours and make them go away.   Gracious sakes.  

So we went to have lunch.   I am loving the McDonalds southwest chicken salad with balsamic dressing.  Only 360 calories but Precious eats most of the chicken so it’s even less.  Lol.   

DG:  I hate waiting.  Again, the only person in this scenario that is not getting paid is the driver. The security guard is getting paid.  The shipping clerk is getting paid. All secretaries and supervisors are getting paid. Even the custodial staff and the window washers are getting paid. The driver?  He sits and waits without pay or compensation of any sorts unless the lumpers are really slow then a few coins are thrown his way that hardly makes up for the time he would spend driving earning his living. And as with all things paid on a per piece basis, miles in this case, these are times that cannot be made up. In other words they are lost forever. Into the ether. Vanquished to eternity. Never to be seen again. Gone. Forever. 

See what waiting does to me?  I become ridiculously contemplative and irrationally reflective. I hate waiting.

We are sitting in a truck, obviously, in a dirt lot across the street from the city cemetery.  I don’t have a word to describe this situation. There is no metaphor that applies and ironic is not the proper adjective if indeed ironic is an adjective.  I had Ms. Ison for 11th grade English and it is her fault I do not know the difference.  That’s not true. It’s my fault entirely. Even now I could look it up. On Google. In this day and age there is no excuse for anyone not knowing everything as it is all at our fingertips thanks to Steven Jobs and the two guys who started Google. I could Google their names but don’t feel like it right now. Don’t care. They took away my excuse for not knowing certain things. Now this is not to be confused with not understanding because I Googled physics one time and although everything written on the subject, including recent college papers written by some very smart students of the subject were there before my very eyes, I could make nary heads not tails of most of it although I did find the reading very fascinating, the understanding escaped me. 

Now back to my cigar. 

Cigar lit. Thoughts return. Back to the cemetery.  Final resting place for all who have waited, waited for that final call, waited for that final day, that final breath. The only thing in life that is final. Death.  But for the true believer death is only a doorway. A door into eternity. Will that be final?  No, that’s just the beginning.  So why all the waiting?  What purpose do we have here if it all ends in the same place?  We must make our mark. We must use our God given talents to mark the way.  We must leave something for those who follow behind. And regardless of your belief, this is what we do. I sit in a parking lot filled with many trucks, the invention of which was one man’s mark and thus has allowed others to make their mark. The miners of the raw materials used to make the frames, engines and bodies of these trucks. The assemblers that put it all together. The engineers who determine how it will all go together so that all those pieces will work together as one, properly. Each truck has the mark of every person involved in its creation whether it be seen or not it is there. And the driver. Where is his mark. His mark is in the freight he moves everyday, well almost everyday, taking goods from manufacturer to store so that people can have the things they need and want.  Everything you own and every material that is the essence of those things has at one time been moved by a truck. And that truck has to have a driver.  Proud to be an American truck driver. 

Now I feel like we should have some sort of common shout amongst us drivers kind of like the Army and Marines.  That may get a little weird around truck stops though. Don’t mention this to anyone. It’s a bad idea. 

Annie – Dear God – Please get us moving again soon!    

DG:  Around 3:00 pm prayers were answered. That means a four hour load time which means some compensation for our time. On the road again. 

I almost hate to admit it but I get a little excited when we begin a new trip. New roads, new places and we are moving which is what we do best. 

Drove through some horrendous rain and wind. I’m sure there was a tornado close by. Lots of lightning all across the sky. Made for one heck of a light show.  

Stopped in Marion, IL for the night. No regular parking spots open so we are parked by the scales. Don’t like it but what do you do. We got here late. 

Tomorrow it’s on to Georgia.  God bless all. 

Annie – A picture of the map while going through the storm.   Could barely see at times and the truck was swaying.  Pretty scary and then it just stopped.  Crazy!

   
 
After the storm there was a puddle at the truck stop I swear looked like a man.  

  
Well, goodnight y’all.