DICK's stop; situation normal

With Kiwi's nose on my lap and a couple of papers to read, I felt like all was back to normal this misty morning after our quick trip to Seattle. Kiwi spent the past three days at the Colburn farm, helping out wherever little black-and-white farm pups can help. She also received a few reminders about jumping up on people. It's pretty hard, when you're a pup and you love everyone, to remember your manners.

It was good to see her last night after the long, dreary drive from Western Washington. Somehow, the coming-home end of the trip never seems as exciting as the going. I prefer to shut my eyes and have those miles across that desert just whiz by, but they don't. And, yesterday seemed infinitesimal because of the ugly weather. I guess the main highlight of our trip home was the stop at DICK's.

DICK's is a hamburger joint along Third Avenue in Spokane. Its black letters on a turquoise and pink sign can be viewed for miles, standing high in the sky on those tall, white pedestals. The windows at DICK's advertise "hamburgers by the bagful," along with a lot of other deep-fried goodies. Usually, there's a guy named Benny at one of the service windows counting his change, but he must've been downtown shopping when we arrived.

DICK's is one of Bill's favorite pit stops whenever he's in Spokane, so he saved up all day, snacking on just a few handfuls of kettle korn and a Reese's peanut butter cup. Just after we passed through Ritzville, he announced to the grouch in the passenger's seat that he'd like to stop at DICK's, if that was okay.

By that time, I could smell home. My mood was lightening up a bit, and I said it was fine, figuring a DICK's chocolate milkshake would taste pretty good as we made the last leg of the trip. It would be my dinner, along with a few munchies at home.

When we pulled into the "drive-in, walk-up-and-order" place, we could see a few other carloads of travelers and locals had the same idea. Four lines approximately six deep stood at the windows waiting to order. After telling Bill I'd take a chocolate shake, I went to the bathroom, which has one stall. The stall door was shut and a bunch of clothes and bags sat on the sink counter.

Immediately, a voice behind the door announced, "I've got two pairs of pants on, so I'll get out of here because I'm gonna take a few minutes when I go." A small lady walked out of the stall as I went in. Then, she announced, "I get nervous when someone's standing outside the door and then I can't go."

"Hmm," I thought, "There must be a few of those around," as I flushed to cue up my bladder to go into action. With the lady standing outside the door in her two pairs of pants, waiting, my bladder got shy and refused to let loose in the company of that stranger. So, I flushed again, zipped my pants and headed back to the car.

Eventually, Bill made his way to the window and soon brought two brown bags and a chocolate shake. He asked if I wanted to drive, and I reasoned that those bags probably contained fish and chips. It's probably not a good idea to try the fish-and-chips challenge while driving down the freeway on the busiest shopping day of the year. He does pretty well with greasy chicken and steering wheels, but I don't know about fish and chips.

We made it home by late afternoon after a successful bathroom stop at Rathdrum where no double-pantsed women waited outside the stall. I drove to Colburn and retrieved Kiwi. By 8 p.m., the house was pretty quiet as cats, dog and humans (well-fed and watered) settled in for a long winter's nap in the comfort of home.