Life in the big city

So, the cat's favorite place is cuddled up next to (or on) his master's tummy... second fave is in the office chair with his new little buddy. Buddy looks really real and he purrs and his tummy moves in and out (like breathing). He can't get into the litter box but now and then squeezes out a couple of little plastic poops.


waitaminit... I just made that last part up...








Okay, so our garage door is one of the five you can see here... could you pick it out while driving backward... and slightly tipsy? (j/k about that). Finally figured out how to spot our garage door... open it before you get there!! Duh...

We went out yesterday (day after Christmas), headed to Henderson for a few errands. First of all I discovered the (heretofore undiscovered) LAS VEGAS PREMIUM OUTLET MALL which happened to be situated right on the way to the freeway I was attempting to enter. Thirty minutes and two dangerous traffic moves later, we were on I-15 north. After a while I became aware that I wasn't recognizing anything along the way, glanced at the vehicle compass & discovered I was heading to Utah... not Henderson as planned. Long story short... we made a very big loop (all the while thinking I knew what I was doing) & finally crossed the original freeway we should have taken in the first place. That's OK... in general, the Mr. and I agree to view these excursions as an "adventure"... and enjoy the view.
We ended our day at the Sunset Station Casino where I was playing nickel Keno... betting the MAX of course (20 cents). But I hit 5 out of 5 numbers which won me 3200 nickels (that's $160 folks)... So... after that we ate a Fatburger and came home (opening the garage door prior to getting there). Life in the big city...

Wow! It's been so long since I blogged I forgot my own password. Lucky for me, I keep a list of passwords handy. Lots has happened since I last wrote... for starters, the Mr. and I moved to Las Vegas (yeah, moved) and we are still getting settled. We'll still be living in Bear Valley part of the time so didn't bring much from there. We bought some new stuff and have been haunting garage sales & thrift stores to fill in the gaps. Fun... like being newly wed & broke (again).
Today I was backing into our driveway to unload our 'haul' & kept wondering why the garage door opener wasn't working. Ray finally said "you're in the wrong driveway"... the opener was working fine... our door was going up & down like crazy.
Another change for us: one of our 2 kitty boys disappeared in BVS (probably a coyote snack) so his brother (Smokey) was elevated from outdoor/garage cat to house cat. And since we've been here in Vegas he has pretty much taken over... we just refer to him as "Your Kittiness"... such as: "excuse me for sitting in your chair, Your Kittiness". That would be the (previous) office chair, made extra comfy for YK with one of Papa Ray's warm, furry sweaters.
I witnessed a near miracle this morning on the (always busy) I-15 freeway. Guy in a Cadillac swerved to avoid a chair in his lane; lost control, spun back & forth across all lanes a couple of times & finally did a complete 360 & stopped upside the median wall... all this without hitting or being hit. My advice to that boy would be: as soon as you change your pants, get yourself to the nearest casino... today is your LUCKY day!!

Hello Dolly

When I was very young, we lived on a rented farm called the Pitts Place. The house on that farm had two rooms and a basement; eventually, seven of us lived there. One of the rooms was a kitchen/dining room with a big wood-burning cook stove which contained a 'reservoir'... a container of water that was always warm from the heat of the stove. This is the room where we took our weekly (?) baths in the winter, in a big round galvanized metal wash tub. In the summer we had our outdoor shower, consisting of a big barrel mounted high on a platform on the side of the barn which was near the windmill. There was a pipe in the bottom of that barrel (with an on/off valve) & hanging from that pipe was a tin can with holes punched in the bottom. The barrel was filled from the windmill and warmed by the sun so (if you were first in line) you could have very comfortable shower.
The other room was a bedroom for my folks and my sister, Nora and me. The basement was a bedroom for my two older brothers. When little brother came along (see previous blog) he slept with Mom & Dad.
This was late 30's, early 40's and money was tight. There were not any frills in our lives...but of course, we didn't know that. At Christmas time, I don't know what my brothers received; it seems to me that Nora and I always shared a gift. Once I remember us getting a little red wagon, and when I was five, we woke up on Christmas morning and there in the bed between us was a doll. This story is about that doll.
After my parents both passed on we siblings gathered at their house and in a very civilized manner, divvied up the remains of their lives. Somehow, brother Ed got the box which had the doll in it. Evidently, Mom had kept her all those years, even though her head was broken. Some time later, Ed was about to toss the doll but my niece Cami rescued her and even took her to a doll doctor who gave her a new head and repaired some other blemishes.
Just recently, much to my surprise and delight, Cami sent me this doll who is now more than 67 years old. Thank you Cami, for being so thoughtful. I got her a new dress and bloomers, shoes & socks and she is now on display in the china cabinet. Neither my sis nor I can remember if we named her, or if so what the name was... so I have named her Toots. That was my mother's nickname.
Welcome home Toots

My three brothers

I am sorting through boxes and boxes of pictures (again) and came across this one... my three brothers, date unknown but taken in the kitchen of the 'home place' in Oklahoma. On the left, brother Don, second oldest who just celebrated his 80th birthday this year. He was/is a preacher... still getting behind the podium at any & every opportunity. He recently performed the marriage ceremony for his grandson (Jake, you might want to check if he is licensed in Georgia just to be sure everything is legal).
On the right, brother Vern... the brother who abruptly ended my reign as the baby of the family which, I am convinced had an adverse effect on my ability to mature into a responsible adult. He is the only one of the five siblings who never left Oklahoma and I'm pretty sure the state is better off for that.
In the center is brother Edwin... the short brother. He was nicknamed "Big Shorty" early in life and I can still remember my dad calling him that even after he was a grown man. You can see from the grin on his face that this brother was all about having fun. He never missed giving everyone a call on their birthday... and no matter what time zone you were in, that call would come at five o'clock in the morning. "Good morning! Happy Birthday", his trademark calling card.
Brother Ed left us in 1997 and I imagine he is making sure everyone in heaven is getting up early, birthday or not. When my time here is done and I get that celestial phone call, I am sure it will be Edwin who is on the other end... and I am positive the call will come at 5:00 a.m.

Alas, poor Morty

Recently, as I was shuttling groceries from truck to kitchen, I noticed that both cats were out on the lawn, crouching and pouncing and, in general, acting like cats. At one point, Smokey had his paw stuck down in a hole-in-the-ground... up to his little cat elbow, and evidently he managed to scare up an underground creature which I'm pretty sure is a mole.

Above, you see Smokey and Morty Mole (he was so cute I had to name him) taking stock of each other. Bandit Cat is just to the left, keeping a sharp eye on Morty while Smokey alternately cuffed him around and then completely ignored him (it's a cat thing).

You want a piece of me???

I'm pretty sure that's what ol' Morty was saying to Smokey at this moment. He was such a feisty little guy I was tempted to interfere and set him free, but didn't because I don't really want a bunch of little Mortys burrowing under my lawn. Eventually, Smokey got tired of the game & took Morty to his going-away party. I didn't witness any more of that exercise... just noticed next morning, the obligatory body parts which had been left where we would be sure to see them and know the kitty boys are earning their keep. Ah, life can be cruel... but then you don't want to mess with Mother Nature.

Addendum to previous blog

I have more to say about this little electronic marvel; I call it "RT"... short for Ruby Tunes... Ruby because of its color & tunes because of what it does. We're learning new things about it most every day. For instance, the first time I was 'loading' music onto it (with Steven's help), it went into a "synchronizing" frenzy & when it finished, had used up one of the four gigs of space it has. That is a bunch in terms of memory! We were puzzled until we noticed that while it was fooling around inside my computer, it had grabbed a bunch of pictures & documents which it can display on its 1.2 x 1.6 inch window. I haven't looked at all of that yet, but did see (and will keep) the photo you see here...my beloved being Mr. Texas a few years back (well, actually 50 years ago). We have loaded music from Patsy Cline to Pavaroti, Elton to Elvis and we're not finished yet! We still have CDs and LP albums (from the 50's) which, with the help of yet another electronic gadget, we will convert to CDs & then transfer to Ruby Tunes. Occasionally when we are listening, a strange song will come out of nowhere (we finally figured out that some 'music' was preloaded on RT). I'm pretty sure it is Heavy Metal since I think it is the sound one would hear immediately after a musician had dropped a heavy metal cannonball on his foot... (no offense, Kim K). So, we have some clean up to do on the files...next project is to find the delete button on little ol' RT so we can truly personalize our music.

Technology runs rampant

Things have certainly changed...the crank phone shown here is the one I grew up with, back on the farm. It actually belonged to my grandparents, who owned the farm before my parents bought it when I was about 8 years old. In those days, the phones were all on a "party" system... eight homes on the same telephone line. Individual 'rings' (two longs, two shorts, one long/one short, etc) determined who the call was intended for... however, that was irrelevant to the neighborhood ladies who listened in on every call... no matter whose 'ring' had rung. My own mom never missed an opportunity to know what was going on in someone else's business... I think that phone was the forerunner of the TV soap opera.

That might very well explain my own aversion to telephones today. As a teenager, knowing that any 'private' call would be shared by at least 4 or 5 neighbors made one hesitant to make or receive calls. To make a call, you had to twirl the little crank on the right hand side of the phone... one lo-o-o-o-ng crank would get you the operator in town & she would then put you in touch with the telephonee of your choice.

The little gadget on the left is, of course, today's cell phone. What a marvel of technology! It affords us the luxury(?) of never again being out of touch with friends and family... or even the telemarketers who can now plague us even when we are not at home! My cell phone is fairly simple... I don't text... in fact I am lucky to hear it in time to answer before it goes to voice mail; then I have to get the manual to figure out how to hear the message.
But, my latest technological goody is a teeny gadget which can hold about 1500 songs (as if I ever even heard of that many songs) and play them to me in my ear, or in the truck, or on the new boombox which can go from room to room or outside on the patio. It's pretty easy to 'load'... I just had to "rip" and "sync" and there were a bunch of our CDs (a marvel in themselves), now residing in that 2 inch x 3 inch piece of technology... it boggles the mind!

Sometimes I wonder what my parents would think... I recall that about 1985, I was telling my Dad about using an ATM (new technology at that time). He heard me out and then said, "I was sort of hoping I would miss the computer age". I'm glad I didn't miss the computer age, although keeping up with it all can sometimes make one weary. I think I have to take a nap now.

Just for the smelluvit

We noticed that when Ray takes off his shoes, Bandit Cat goes berserk... twisting & wiggling until he gets his head as far as possible into the deep (and smelly) recesses of said shoe. He is not a small cat so you can see he is not able to get all of him in there. Evidently, whatever he finds in there causes him great pleasure, as you can see by the look on his face in the picture above.
Those two kitty boys tried my patience severely a couple of nights ago. I was trying to get them to come in for the night (into the garage) and Bandit ran into the sunroom with a large mole dangling from his mouth. Of course, Smokey tried his best to share in the prize & they were both running around the room with me screaming & trying to drive them into the garage. Finally, Smokey (in a snit) ran out the back door into the dark & I got Bandit (and his mole) into the garage. I kept checking every 20 minutes or so, calling "kitty, kitty" out the back door but no Smokey. Meanwhile, Bandit was still in the garage and after a while he started having a fit to get into the sunroom. By then the mole had disappeared... I probably don't want to know where. So I opened the back door again, walked away and when I turned around... there was Smokey rolling around on the floor and playing with his very own (dead) mole...looking for all the world like he was telling Bandit "see... you're not so smart". More screaming & chasing and they finally settled down out in the garage... and next day... there was not hide nor hair of either mole. Sometimes I wonder... but, like I said... I don't really want to know.

Sometimes I wonder...

Like today... I wonder why a temperature of 34 degrees feels so much colder on April 15 than it did on January 15? Additionally... WHY are we having temps in the 30's in APRIL for heaven's sake??? But I guess I can't really complain after the beautiful, sunny Easter Sunday we just had.

And I wonder why every now and then this thought flashes through my mind: Omigosh! The cleaning lady is coming tomorrow and this place is a mess! So I wonder why I spend a whole day getting ready so the CL can spend half a day getting rid of our dust collection and vacuuming in places I can't reach. And then I spend a few more days looking for the things I hurriedly stashed away so the CL wouldn't have to deal with the clutter. Just wondering...

Like yesterday as I was sitting through the process of being "permed" I began to wonder... what possesses us ladies to submit ourselves to this modern day torture? After the B.O. (beauty operator) shampoos & creme rinses us, he partitions our locks into small sections and rolls each one of those sections onto a small plastic rod after first wrapping those hairs with a cigarette paper (anyway, it sure looks like a cigarette paper). That takes a while and is a little bit painful as the rods have to be rubber-banded tight to your head. Then he squirts some awful smelling liquid all over the rods & puts a plastic shower cap on your head, and you wait. Not too long, or else the permanent wave you went in for will be a permanent frizz for the next few months. The next step is a rinse with warm water, then the rods are squirted with another liquid, the 'neutralizer' (sounds a little ominous doesn't it) and then a final warm water rinse. You now have little ringlets all over your wet head. But... the B.O., using a hand held hair dryer and a brush, will attempt to pull those little ringlets into a straight line... so that he can then, using a hot curling iron, put some curl back into your hair... only not little ringlets, something larger and softer and more to your liking. Finally, you are combed out, fluffed up, sprayed down and sent on your merry way. Sometimes I wonder...

That's allotta bull...

This story is about a bull, but first a little history. My dad (born 1902) had an eighth grade education but was one of the smartest (self-educated) men I've ever known. He devised an irrigation system for his farm in Oklahoma in 1953 when no one else around was irrigating. Long story short... the irrigation well consisted of a six-sided hole in the ground, twenty feet deep and maybe 10 to 12 feet in diameter. There was a pump in the bottom of that hole which drew water from six sandpoints which had been driven another 20 feet into the ground to reach the water. Please don't ask me what is a sandpoint or much of anything about that well cause I was a teenager then and had more interesting things to think about.
Well... eventually the irrigation system was no longer used and somewhere in the sixties the well was abandoned and covered with a wooden lid. One day in 1968 or '69, Dad's big ol' black bull came up missing. By then I was living in Texas so obviously, I was no help but the folks still living there looked and looked for that bugger. Finally in desperation, my little brother walked out into the field where that irrigation well was; wel-l-l-l... there was a big hole in the lid of that well and... there was that big ol' black bull standing at the bottom of the well... unhurt, but mad as hell!
So... how do you get a big ol' bull out of a 20 foot deep hole? And still be alive after you do? Not to worry... little brother went to the neighbor & got him and his dozer to come over and they began to push dirt into that hole... a little bit at a time. When there was a pile of dirt built up they would throw dirt clods at BOBB (big ol' black bull) until he climbed up on the dirt and then do it all over again. Eventually the dirt built up to the point that BOBB could climb on out of that hole... by then the clod throwers were hiding out and giving him plenty of room.
When my little brother told this story at the recent Texas reunion I told him to be sure and write it down but I figured he never would so I just did it myself (with his permission) and am giving him full credit for the whole thing. Thank you, Vern.
Oh yes... after hearing that story one of my nieces said "up until then those machines had been called dirt dozers... but ever since have been known as bulldozers."

Eager beginnings, iffy moments and happy endings

Brother Don, his daughter Becca, my Ginger

We just completed a whirlwind of a (driving) trip to Georgetown, Texas. Prior to leaving, Mr. Ray wasn't feeling the greatest, what with a bad cough & all. So we dutifully doctored up & got all the meds (we thought) he would need and headed east... after picking up Ginger, Bob and Gus. However, as we progressed in mileage, Ray felt worse and by the time we got there Friday night, it was obvious to anyone who ever knew Ray Huecker that he was not himself. So, Niece Teresa (aka Angel Girl) took us to the ER and patiently waited with me while they did a multitude of tests, most of which ruled out any bad stuff. Turns out, along with the (by now) terrible cough, the Mr. was also dehydrated, so very soon after the IV fluids went in, he began to look and sound like his real self (thank goodness). Long story short... he got a lot better and continues his recovery even now.
We have that and many other things to be thankful for now that we are back home with our cats and chickens. For starters, we are just so glad we were able to be in Texas to observe and celebrate my brother's 80th birthday, and the fact that he had made it to that ripe old age without becoming a curmudgeon.** We are surely grateful to his wife, his kids and his kids-in-law for putting the party together in a (seemingly) effortless way. Food, drink and entertainment all coming our way ad infinitum, with plenty of time to relax, visit and reminisce.
Brother Don and wife are thankful for the beautiful weather which allowed folks to sit outside all day & into the evening... thus saving wear and tear on the rugs & furniture inside. Don likes to take credit for that, claiming he has an "IN" with certain forces of nature.
On a personal note, the Mr. and I are so glad Ginger, Bob & Gus were able to be with us on this journey, giving moi much relief from driving duties... and we are eternally grateful to whatever forces (heavenly or otherwise) that kept us safe even as we were hurtling across the Arizona desert at 85 (or 90) mph when moi was not behind the wheel.
Final thought: getting together with loved ones at every opportunity is an effort richly rewarded. I recommend it.

**This is the perfect spot for a snide remark but today I am feeling kind (and don't want to chance that maybe he really does have an "IN" somewhere).

Time Change

Did you remember to 'spring forward' this morning? We have a variety of clocks in several rooms so it is a bit of a chore (not even counting trying to change the time on my watch with its teeny little stem). Just before Christmas, the kitchen clock with its (appropriate) rooster motif, fell off the wall and broke... so, I hung up a lovely Christmas clock which is still there, caroling to us every hour. Maybe that's a little out of date now, so I'll replace it with the office clock (shown here) until I can find another rooster that can tell time. Maybe this would be a good time for me to put away the banner tacked to the outside of the garage... fall scenery with a Thanksgiving turkey in the middle. Oh... and while I'm at it, I might as well pull out the red, white and blue plastic flowers which have been putting on a patriotic show since before the fourth of July. One thing I'll say for myself: I always get things done... although not always in a timely manner.

Reclaiming our territory

I love our sunroom. At one time it was a patio but is now all enclosed, with many big windows, good views, lots of sunshine. It was a great place to have a meal, walk the treadmill, listen to music, read or work the crossword puzzle.
Enter the cats. When we got those two kitty boys last spring we fixed them up a 'cat lair' in the garage... carpet, chairs with cushions, rugs, blankets, food and water and a covered litter pan. What more could a cat want?? Well, come winter, it seemed a little inhospitable for them to be out in the cold garage, so we let them come into the sunroom... big mistake! Despite our efforts at shooing them off the table and out of the bookcase...they had their way. Smokey's favorite place was in the middle of a big flower arrangement (which he consistently dumped onto the floor). I'm pretty sure Bandit was the one who frequently rearranged my cookbooks by taking them off the shelf and putting them (in random order) on the floor. Ditto the DVDs and CDs... nothing was off limits. Eventually we just gave in and the sunroom became the CATROOM. Cats ruled!
The weather has now become warmer... hey, kitty boys! Guess what?? The cat lair in the garage has been refurbished; yesterday I spent several hours vacuuming, cleaning, polishing in the sunroom and an equal amount of time convincing the 'boys' that they will no longer rule that particular roost.
I love our sunroom.

Birthday Girl

February 24, 1967, driving down Central Expressway to Baylor Hospital in Dallas, the Mr and I decided we really should pick a girl's name... just in case...even though we were convinced this baby was a boy. (Back in the day, there were no sonagrams, ultra sounds, etc to detect what sort of plumbing the baby had... consequently... ya just paid yer money & took yer chances). So, hours and hours later... our baby girl whirled into the world and never looked back! Last Sunday we were able to celebrate the event at a new Claim Jumper restaurant in Palmdale; good food, good company.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY GIRL!!!

Questions without answers

Question: Why is this snowman eating Steven's hands? We'll never know the answer, but I am happy to report that (as of 2/22/09) the snowman is reduced to a small pile of dirty snow while Steven is perfectly fine (and still has all his fingers).

Question: Who or what is pulling out all the feathers on Dixie Bell's butt? Especially now in the dead of winter? Does that barearseness cause DB to have goose bumps... or would she necessarily have to have chicken bumps? Can someone out there knit her a pair of chicken bloomers?

Question: If the expiration date is (long) past on your carton of buttermilk... and the milk has "turned"... how would you know?

Question: What is a 'cob web'? I know what they look like (I have plenty)... but where do they come from? I have observed a spider spinning its web... a fascinating sight by the way, but I'm pretty sure cobs don't create webs. Having grown up on a farm, I have seen many a cob. Incidentally, it is a myth that corn cobs were used in the outhouses of yesteryear (that's what the Sears catalog was for). Ah yes, the outhouse... a distant memory. It was a simple structure with a 'bench seat' which had two holes cut in it... one small/medium for little or half grown people and one big hole for the grownups. When I was about 8 years old, I saw my first indoor toilet... and thought how clever that when the seat was down, that was for small/medium folks and when the seat was up, that was for the fatasses to sit on. But, I digress... and I still don't know who makes cob webs.

Itsno joke!

Yesterday (Friday the 13th, to be exact) it snowed like a fury in the morning hours... then, like magic, the sky cleared, sun popped out and it was just beautiful. Of course... yers truly just couldn't resist laying out and soaking up some rays. Unfortunately, I dozed off... and the snow came back... and, well... you can see what happened. Lucky for the Mr. he likes his women a little on the chilly side!

Washing the washing machine

Am I the only one whose washing machine gets dirty... on the inside?? Isn't the thing always full of hot soapy water? And doesn't the agitator always have lots of towels and shirts and undies rubbing up against it? I understand that the grime comes from the towels and shirts and undies, but shouldn't it all just rinse away and not stick to the blades of the bloomin' agitator??
And the fabric softener dispenser... don't even get me started! It holds back a smidgeon of that yellow (or blue or green) stuff in every load and pretty soon... (well, four years later)... there is a coating on the inside of that little cup that has to be scraped out with a bulldozer!
I just don't get it... how can that stuff stay in there against the torrents of rinse water that pour through the system? I don't know but I suspect it is the same law of physics that allows (encourages, even) tiny specs of dust to cling like velco onto a fan blade that is twirling around fast enough to cool off a roomful of middle-aged women in the midst of a hot flash.
Life is full of mystery.

Flashback!

There is a small cafe here in our town which actually started out as a sort of coffee and tea house and a place for aspiring poets to go and hear themselves recite. We had never been there, but on a recent day, saw that they are now serving breakfast and lunch. So, not being ones who ever pass up an opportunity for a new adventure... we dropped in for lunch.
Shades of the sixties!! It was hippyville all over again from the very colorful walls to the somewhat beat-up overstuffed love seat & coffee table taking up a large area in the small 'cafe'. The tables and chairs were an eclectic* (translation: nothing matched) combination, and there was not much room to move about the room. The paraphenalia of the 60's (people with their bongs) had been replaced by people with their laptops. We weren't ever hippies, altho we did dress up as hippies once for a costume party; however, we do remember that era.
So, we stepped up to the counter and ordered... a salad and a sandwich, both of which involved chicken salad... than sat at a teeny table to await our repast. There was one nice-sized table there but it was covered with jigsaw puzzle pieces and hovered over by a very serious puzzle lady who did not welcome any company. After about 20 minutes, we were told that they didn't have any more chicken salad & would I care for turkey... and would Ramon care for salmon salad on his salad. He would. So finally, I got my organic whole wheat bread* (translation: very dense and very dry) sandwich and the Mr. got his salad with a blob of salmon salad (he swears it was tuna) and we finished up & left the sixties... hopefully for the last time.

What's with these Huecker feet??

It started with me last August. I tore a tendon in my foot while doing nothing more interesting than taking a step. So I hobbled around for six weeks in very stylish casts (purple, pink and blue). In December, grandson Anthony was a passenger in a Rhino, an ATV which is all caged in (perfectly safe). Somehow, it turned over and all would have been okay except that, instinctively, Anthony stuck out his foot... and broke a couple of bones. He was sporting a cast for 3 weeks but is castless now and doing fine.
Then, just last weekend, d-i-l Emilie managed to kick the raised brick platform around their wood burning stove and O-U-C-H... broke her middle piggy. Since it is almost impossible to put a cast on a piggy, she is taped up and wearing a special shoe. And... walking very carefully.
Listen up Hueckers! Be careful out there...

A New Love

Yes, ever since Christmas Eve 2008, there is a new love in my life. He is round and flat and I call him Sparky. He is a little robotic vacuum cleaner and, listen up girls, every woman's dream! I just set up a couple of electronic barriers to keep him from straying too far, push his button and he zips around back and forth, in circles, in loop-de-loops cleaning his heart out. He will eventually run out of energy but if he is in the same room as his charger, will mosey over to it and hoist his little butt up onto the magic buttons all by himself. In a couple of hours he is ready to do it all over again. Who could ask for anything more?

What now??

Oh wow... I just signed up to be a blogger... and I don't even know what that means! Maybe I'll just ramble for a while and see what happens.
Today the Mr. had an MRI on his head at the VA in West Los Angeles (translation: a six hour drive gets us there and back home). The good news... there IS a brain in there and we think it's in pretty good shape. I'm only too happy to chauffeur my beloved to his various appointments... even though mostly... when I drive for more than four hours... when I get out of the truck, I want to be standing in front of a casino!!