Oklahoma!

Driving from Charlotte to Oklahoma means getting to I-40 (Asheville) and going west forever. And waking up the next day and doing it again. Really, the trip was a smooth one and I managed to catch up on some of the sleep I'd been missing over the past two weeks. My dad is the greatest- he got braces Monday (per dentist orders), got in the car, and drove to Charlotte to get me. Then packed the car and drove back. He can't even eat regular food and he's driving cross-country . . . without an atlas! I was shocked by that, until he pulled out the trusty Cracker Barrel map, the one that has every CB in the country on it. All well and good until we were eating dinner at a Cracker Barrel (they have applesauce for my poor father) somewhere in Tennessee - and neither of us knew where. Dad made a guess and we were jubilant about our progress - until the waitress informed us we were 30 miles off. Oh, well.

My dad loves books on tape when we travel. He had finished one and was halfway through one of the Bourne series when he picked me up. That was good, definitely held your attention, and the reader did great accents. Dad let me pick the next book - and when he vetoed a Jimmy Carter memoir, we settled on one of the Mitford series. My dad complained about it, but even though it took 3 chapters (3 cd's - 3 hours!) for Father Tim and Cynthia to leave Mitford for their summer sabbatical, my dad can't deny he was chuckling at all the funny parts. That Father Tim!

We left the mountains of NC for the hills of TN for the flatlands of Arkansas and Oklahoma. The only place of interest we stopped happened to be Checotah, the home of famed Idol winner, Carrie Underwood. I woke up to us pulling off the highway and Dad slowing to avoid two trotting creatures - a mangy dog and what had to be a coyote. Oh, Oklahoma. Then we spotted a thick black plume of smoke pouring into the sky from behind the gas station, and a seemingly unconcerned couple running a garden hose over the fire, which was concealed behind a large black pickup. It wasn't until we left that we could see for sure that it wasn't the pickup on fire. Strange. That's Carrie Underwood for ya.

And, it's good to be home.