I’m baaack!

I haven’t been able to babble on here the last few days due to the stomach virus from hell and a bout of bad weather here keeping us extra busy with the City folks.
I’ve fully recovered from the virus and the City projects are just about cleaned up. I wanted to touch upon the funeral of last week and why the cryptic message of the Stuckeys comment, it was an adventure to say the least.
Tuesday as I trudged out early that morning to meet Jacks in Atlanta I noticed my stomach was “talking” to me extra loud, I just finished a nice stack of pancakes and gulped down a massive amount of milk. When I was about half way there the chills hit me and a head ache, a few miles down the road I started to sweat. I knew this couldn’t be good but pressed onward.
By the time I arrived in Atlanta I was full on sick, waiting on Jacks I leaned my seat back and tried to rest some, we still had another 3 hour drive to get to the funeral home.
When Jacks pulled up his mouth dropped “Dude, you are so pale!” I grunted at him that he would be the driver and plan on making many stops along the way. We made it to the funeral home in time; I decided to stay back away from everyone else and linger in the background, hoping not to infect others.
The funeral was a full on Military with a side of the Masonic, so we had the loud twenty one gun salute the roaming bag pipe player and what ever rituals that Masons do. In other words it was a long, sad mother of a funeral. I swear during the folding of the flag I had to run out and make myself feel better and the old guys were still folding the flag when I came back in.
Our drive back right after the funeral was no less eventful, pulling over every hour or so. Jacks made it no better when he decided to stop at Burger King and ordering two Whoppers with cheese a large fry and onion rings no less. All I could think was “Please God take me now” when that smell wafted over to me. I can’t fault him -- he had to eat; the day had been just as terrible for him minus the virus.
When we traveled as young-uns, we always stopped at the Stuckeys truck stops, they had great little gadgets to play with – my Mom hated the place because of the had rubber snakes they sold. We always looked for the signs on the highways. When it was just Luke and I, she would see them long before us, Mom would always manage to have something for us to look at in the opposite direction, so we wouldn’t spot the sign. When Jacks (old eagle eye) came along and could read the signs she was out of luck, he would spot them miles away.
We arrived in Atlanta at the prime time of 5:10; if you ever drove in that traffic during “rush” hour then you know how I felt. We made it to Julie and Luke’s house where they insisted I stay the night at least until I could sit up properly to drive home. Jacks refused to stay in the virus fog and drove home.
The next day I was some what better and by afternoon faked that I could make it, something about being sick and being at your own home makes it a little easier. That whole day I slept, only getting up every once in a while to make myself feel better. By Friday I could tolerate the world again.
This weekend I took it easy, worked a little bit and relaxed a lot. I called Jacks today to make sure he was feeling fine; he was, as he munched down a bacon sandwich. I swear that guy has a cast iron stomach.