When you begin to feel swamped by your fanny bottom, stuck and sitting, time to break out the emergency stockpile of road Zen. Travel is the destination. This isn't an interminable drag of road pain. We are having fun! We are driving, eating road food, and sleeping in hotels. What's not to love?

I packed ceramic coffee mugs and a box of peppermint tea. God bless me! Shitty coffee in a proper mug is 100% better than the same in Styrofoam. Because of the season, we have an unlimited supply of clementine tangerines (clems.) And fresh green and red chili awaits us in New Mexico. I contacted a farmer before we left home, packed my own glass jars, and we get to pick up fresh milk when we arrive. I'm excited about fresh cow milk--a treat we haven't had this year we've been milking goats. And I'm thrilled to visit a farm in N.M.  I'll meet a real out west cowgirl!

Last night we ate dinner at a steak house, "Big Jakes," in Van Buren Arkansas. After we ordered, I noticed an old man loitering at the penny pressing machine by the front door with his eye on my daughter. He wandered over, gave her a penny, and told us he was the owner. It seemed doubtful as something was clearly wrong with the guy. I put my arm around my girl. After he'd been at our table about 3 minutes longer than appropriate, a waitress arrived and hugged him saying, "We love James, he's so sweet." And so he is. And he also IS the owner, though strokes have robbed him of the ability to form linear sentences. He probably understands most language the same as all of us. But his ability to speak is compromised. Even so, he gave us a tour of the place, which he built, taking us up the elevator, showing off his signed Remington artwork, answering questions (from a cheat sheet he keeps in his wallet) about the Elk over the door, and was a super nice if rather sad figure. He also runs two hundred head of cattle, owns the abattoir, and supplies his own restaurant. I don't know of any such place on the east coast, hip locavores included. Out here in the middle of nowhere it isn't a culinary movement so much as good common sense.

There is a deeply troubling new phenomenon in skanky-upper crust-hotels. Its not a treatment for bedbugs, though it may be a cover of the treatment. They all spray Febreeze Linen & Sky, a special extra strong hotel version of the stuff some people (?!) spray in their homes. Which is done to give patrons that special "fresh clean feeling." It also took the lining out of my sinuses and I hate to think what else, possible brain damage from consistent exposure seems likely. We've circumvented this deeply troubling problem by down grading to the truly skanky hotels, which don't spray. As an added bonus, they cost about $20 less a night and the only noticeable difference are the tubs--plastic rather than porcelain. Hell, I'd shower in the parking lot with a cold hose in front of God and everyone else to avoid ever sleeping the in fresh clean toxic fog of febreezzle-funk. On the other hand, we can also thank bedbugs because very hotel in the United States now has brand new mattresses and pillows--upgraded and softer than my own.

Yesterday we drove past Mousetail Landing and through Bucksnort Tennessee. Today: Oklahoma! My daughter says I cuss more when I'm whispering to her dad. Can that be true?