A Palm Sunday Drive

We had a wonderful visit with our family in Visalia this afternoon and evening (Thanks, Aunt Vera!) On the ride home, however, things got a tad bit silly.

It all started when we saw a train off to the right of the freeway. Amanda wanted to know why the train didn't have a caboose. Henry explained that most trains don't have them anymore. Before he could explain why, we all caught wind of something very prevalent in Central California ~ A DAIRY. If you don't know what a dairy smells like, consider yourself blessed. (Side Note: On the way to our family gathering, and while passing yet another a dairy, I mused to Henry that bathrooms on dairies probably didn't have any need for air fresheners. It's not like they could actually make a difference. Am I right, or am I right?)

Okay, so as we're driving through the foul smelling area, I turned to my most gaseous daughter and said, "Hey, Meg, if you need to pass anything, now would be a good time." She replied, "If cabooses farted, they would be so powerful, they could go up a tree!" Huh?

From there, the potty talk picked up speed, involving Nuns and their "habits". I can't even remember all that was said, but at one point, I was concerned that Henry might drive off the road for laughing so hard.

So much for a dignified ending to Palm Sunday.