This really isn’t about road kill, but…it’s freaking amazing how many animals die at the hands of motorists. I know there’s no answer or cure, unless there was a way to train animals to be traffic aware. If a monkey can enter the WSOP, is it possible to teach these animals to play poker and avoid traffic? Years ago I had a deer dart out of the underbrush and run headfirst into the side of my car, almost knocking itself out. So even if you see them, and know they are there, they still are impossible to keep from hitting at times. It’s kind of freaky though, deer – too many to even try to count, racoons, skunks, rabbits, coyotes, and everything and anything that one can think of is splattered all over the roads, red splotches adorn the pavement marking the end of the their last journey. And the cost of human lives is not marked by pieces of broken bodies and bones, it’s marked by crosses along the highway, some are decorated with flowers, some have names on them, and some are just stark, glaring white crosses to let us know someone died there. Spencer Idaho has my votefor the most crosses in theshortest distance. I’m guesstimating the distance to be approximately six miles, and it’s a lonely stretch of road, with way too many crosses.The highwayis now adorned with reflecting poles set in a continuous line along the edge of theshoulder – on both sides – and resembles a landing strip when your headlights hit that section. That may be a good thing. It may keep people awake and aware going through there. Personally I find it to be quite annoying but if it works, more power to it.

So back to the Idaho Panhandle and me. I really love the coach. I love the truck. I love the idea of being in my home and walking out into a new environment when I’m all set up in the new place. It’s kind of like camping out and running away from home at the same time…yet you are at home.

Sunday was spent with the family and goodbyes for another year. The crew from Moses Lake Washington (Neomi’s brood) was packing up and heading for home. They all had jobs to be at and places to be on Monday.

The sisters:

This is what we have left – out of eight of us kids and I’m sure we are damn fortunate to have that:

After the Moses Lake Crew hit the road, that left Monte and Vickie (truck drivers), Kevin and Gayl, and Kenny and Vicky (both couples are local residents), and me. We ate too much food as usual, probably drank too much as usual – hell I know they did. A few of them were inhaling shots and following it up with beer. Gayl had just returned home from CA. She spent a week there going through climbing school for a new phase of her life, a job with the phone company that she’s worked for for quite some time but now she’s certified, graduated, and a Grade A line-woman. Nice! So we told tales of old, drank, laughed, and whiled the night away while little sister Vickie, Ms. Super-Pyro, tried to burn every piece of wood that Ken had brought to the campground. God forbid that one piece should be left when we vacate the camping premises – every year – every campground – no matter where/what/when. We don’t understand her need to burn but we indulge her to the best of our ability.

I have to tell more Sandpoint tales of old but right now I have to sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I leave you with this:

One would think that the above picture must be one of ‘the end’ pictures. Not so! This is a thriving antique shop on the main highway heading in to Sandpoint.

There are still tales to tell, time will unravel old roads traveled and dreams of new ones to explore. See you there!