Our mentally challenged friends at the T.S.A. decided to ravage my luggage and do a full on pat down etc. both to and from Phoenix. They were somewhat less than insolant in Phoenix, so I can't complain about overt rudeness, but why should I suffer because the scanner operator can't figure out what a cell phone and a Blackberry looks like on Xrays. They were somewhat mystified by Midnite as well but decided not to open him up. I didn't want him spread in the purgatory of a modern airport anyway. They even went to the full swab and analyze (note the word Anal in analyze, which is what they are. Anal about being Assholes) You'd have thought they never saw a Blackberry the way they inspected it. I said, I work for XXX and I've been out by the Nuke plant, so if you detect radiation just confiscate the F**ker, anjd I'll just tell XXX that "the T.S.A. stole the Blackberry and you can deal with them."

The Ashes spreading went fine, with each family member commemerating Dad in a different way. One of my brothers kept a little cremains to spread around his house, one wants to put some in a ring or locket, My nephew kept some to mix in the tattoo ink of any family member that gets a tattoo and want a part of dad with it.

Midnite went with us in his black box, so Mel could spread him at the old house. I tried to torture the 3 year olds there by asking them, "Do you want to see midnite my dog?" He's right up on the table there in that back box. One said, "How can he fit in that box?".

"Very carefully my boy, very carefully!"

When we got out of the car Amy said, "Did you get everything?"

"Everything but the dog," I replied. Some busy body overheard and interjected, "You can't leave a dog in a hot car!"

"Don't worry about it, He doesn't mind a bit!" I replied. Come to think of it, he's been very well behaved lately. We set him down and he doesn't move come hell or high water, never barks or begs at the table, but truthfully doesn't heel or pay any attention to anything.

On the way back we were a bit, well quite a bit, late for the plane. That's when our undoubtably interbred T.S.A. Morons decided to check our bags again, including the whole 9 yards. At least this time the guy believed me when I told him it was a metal rod in my leg doing the beeping. One yelled, "Whats in these 2 bags?" I replied, " I haven't got f**king clue, my mother gave them to me and I haven't had time to look yet!" The other said to Amy," You are the one that's late not me". If I had heard that I would probably still be in Reno awaiting bail. "You aren't helping much Asshole!" We arrived at the gate for the last 3 seats as they were closing the door. We made it on, so alls well that ends well. (Rat Ryan asked if that was the closest I ever came to missing a plane, and was surprised to hear it wasn't. Once I was driven out to the plane on the runway to board!, but that's a long story.)

Amy wasn't feeling good anyway, and subsequently got sick on the plane and at home all night.

I strung this out too much, so maybe next time we can talk about the good times instead of the squirty tomato.

Curiouoso* wondering about that tattoo.....