The next few days ran together in a blur of driving, rest stops, and too short nights in freeway motels.

We did have a few memorable moments though. Any trip through New Mexico on I-40 cries out for a stop in Gallup. It has become tradition for Lynne and me; our required stops are the El Rancho Hotel for lunch and then Richardson’s Pawn for turquoise shopping.

It was almost 1:00 p.m. when we reached the Gallup exit. I’d only scheduled one hour for visiting Gallup but hadn’t broken that news to Lynne yet.

“Lynne, we’re stopping for lunch first.”

A tiny, plaintive sigh escaped Lynne’s lips. “Lunch?”

“Yes, lunch first.”

And so we pulled into the El Rancho’s parking lot and quickly found our way to the restaurant. We both ordered the Anthony Quinn…New Mexico green chile with beans.

There is nothing quite like this dish. I’ve made a version of it at home using local peppers and chicken but having it again in Gallup reminded me that there’s nothing quite like the original. I came away with a renewed determination to buy some Hatch chiles in September when my local Raley’s gets them in. Maybe Hatch chiles and ground pork would make a closer facsimile of the El Rancho’s dish.

As always, Richardson’s didn’t disappoint. The artistry of the jewellery is just plain amazing. Thanks to a change in our travel plans, we’ll be able to stop on the way home too.

More turquoise! More green chile!

Thanks to Jean Balint, one of our travel rituals has become waving at cows as we drive past them. This started out as waving at black cows for luck but, as I’m very much a “cover all your bases” sort of person, I
started waving at cows that _might_ be black. As you’re hurtling down the freeway at 60 miles per hour, it can sometimes be hard to tell if a cow is black or dark brown. What if it’s backlit? Then it’s almost impossible to tell.

Not wanting to miss out on any of the good juju that comes from waving at black cows, we started waving at all the cows.

I also started waving at all the Quebecers we passed along the road but that was just because. I’ve not heard of it bringing luck but it must be good in a karmic sense, right?

After a night in Tucumcari (”Tucumcari tonight!”), we were back on the road heading east.

There’s not a whole lot of excitement crossing through Texas and Oklahoma although I will say that the I-40 rest area in Texas is phenomenal. Great architecture, tornado safe rooms, and free wifi…what more could one ask for?

Our plan was to stay in Little Rock for our third night on the road but, after some discussion, decided to try to get a few more miles under our belt that day, just to make our arrival in Atlanta a little bit earlier. So, while we stayed the night in Lonoke, we did eat in Little Rock and what a meal it was!

In North Little Rock, we pulled off the freeway and found Corky’s BBQ. Lynne ordered their beef brisket but I was seduced by the promise of dry ribs. Corky’s did not disappoint; the ribs were tender, juicy, smoky, spicy…everything you could ever want in barbeque. Even better, the leftovers made a great sandwich for lunch the next day.

During all this, the boys were behaving beautifully despite being stuck in their crates for the duration.

(Some of my photos of Rogie from the journey to Atlanta are here: http://www.peavine.com/?p=129 )

Four days after leaving Lynne’s home in Walnut Creek, we finally rolled into Atlanta. We quickly checked in and headed out for dinner. After four days of driving, we were looking for a restaurant within walking distance and found a Greek/Italian place about a quarter of a mile away.

Even though the food was just “okay”, this dinner was one of the highlights of my trip. Why?

Because after ordering a drink, the waitress asked me for ID. I’ll be straightforward here…I’m every inch an overweight, middle-aged woman. Today is my 45th birthday so my first thought on the waitress’ question was “Oh, this place is like that Mexican restaurant in McKinney (Texas). They have really strict liquor laws and they HAVE to ask everyone for ID.”

After handing over my government-issue ID, I could tell by the embarrassed look on the waitress’ face that this was not at all like McKinney. Bless her ignorant little heart…

To answer some of the questions I’ve had about this incident:

* No, I was not IDed by a man who winked knowingly while asking for my ID.

* No, the waitress was elderly like the (possibly senile) woman who IDed me in Oklahoma when I was 40. This girl was in her early 20s.

During the coming week, I learned that another whippet person had also been IDed. Jill Hopfenbeck was IDed TWICE during her stay in Atlanta (and she’s older than I am…although I don’t think she’d mind, I’m not going to tell her age, just in case).

I think I’ve discovered the key to being taken as being much younger. I can’t speak for Jill but this is what has worked for me. First, stop dying the hair. If your hair is the right colour, all that grey might pass for highlighting. (If anyone is curious about my hair colour, it’s “field mouse grey” or, as the hair care industry likes to call it, dark ash brown.) Second, don’t dress nicely. Obviously, if you can afford nice clothes, you must be at least middle-aged. Finally, don’t take your afternoon blood pressure meds; there’s nothing quite like a little mild hypertension to give you the rosy complexion of youth.

Seriously though, Jill said she was told that most places ID anyone who looks under 30. Hell, at 45, I’m more than happy with that!

Next up…lure coursing, racing, and the rest of the week in Atlanta!

Rogie in Winslow, Arizona

Breakfast in Tucumcari, NM/Frühstück in Tucumcari, New Mexico

Rogie in a tepee in Oklahoma/Rogie mit einem Tepee in Oklahoma

Rogie’s lure coursing loot from Atlanta/Rogies Beute

Rogie had a restless night, no doubt due to the discomfort of his recent surgery. (Well, either that or his congenital nosiness kept him awake all night as he tried to rifle through the closet in Lynne’s guest bedroom.) And, since Rogie had a restless night, I had a restless night. The morning came far too soon but, as I was excited to get on the road, it wasn’t too bad.

We finished the final packing of the Rialta and, by 7:18, we were on the road. Traffic moved quickly and we were soon away from the city and heading south on I-5.

After the many road trips we’ve taken together, Lynne and I pretty much know each other’s stories. On our early trips, we could tell stories for days before running out of new things to say. These days, we’re lucky if we can make it an hour down the road without hearing something we’ve heard before. So today, we opted to discuss “other stuff”. It took us a couple of hundred miles to discuss the current political situation and solve the global economic crisis. With that out of the way, we moved on to other areas of conversation.

Favourite American Idol?

Lynne: Lil Rounds
Jen: Adam Lambert

Thoughts on Adam Lambert’s cover of Ring of Fire?

Lynne: Abysmal
Jen: Inspired

CSI: original, NY, or Miami?

Lynne: All of them
Jen: All but Miami. Never Miami. Can’t they kill off David Caruso’s character? (Preferrably a painful death but I’d settle for a quick and painless one.)

Thoughts on the departure of William Peterson?

Lynne: Miss him
Jen: Miss him

Thoughts on the addition of Laurence Fishburne?

Lynne: Okay but he’s no Gil Grissom.
Jen: Story line is completely implausible. What professional is going to leave their career position to work as an entry level investigator? Bollocks, I say!

As we chatted, we watched the landscape outside our windows change from the wasteland that is the I-5 corridor to the high desert mountains near Tehachapi. We were so lucky to come through in early April as the desert was in bloom! The hills were covered with patches of the tiniest gold flowers and the silvery lavendar of the sage blossoms. Purple and gold…ahhh, they looked so good together. It occurred to me that something else was purple and gold. Oh right…those were the Lakers’ colours.

Heh. Maybe those little desert flowers weren’t all that pretty after all.

As a nod to the recession, Lynne and I had decided to eat at least one meal per day on the road. We’d hoped to stop at the rest area near Boron because, well, who wouldn’t want to stop at a place called Boron? Unfortunately, the rest area was closed for construction and so our sandwiches were eaten in the parking lot of a truck stop. We did manage to stop at the next rest area though where Rogie posed for the first of many photos:

As we entered Arizona, even more desert blooms greeted us; brilliant pink cactus flowers, blood red cactus flowers, lemon yellow blooms, gold blooms…they were all so beautiful.

Ultimately, we stopped in Kingman for the night. No exciting food here…we ended up at Denny’s. (Isn’t it funny how no one ever goes to Denny’s, they just end up there?)

After knitting a few rows on my scarf, it was in to bed for me. Tomorrow would bring another day of desert driving and one of our trip highlights…Gallup, New Mexico!

Several years after our last major road trip, Lynne and I decided we’d finally take on “the southern route”. How fortuitous that the AWC national specialty show would be held in Atlanta this year!

After talking about what we wanted to do, who we wanted to see, and what sort of food we’d like to eat (okay, only I thought about that last one), we decided on the following route: I-40 almost the entire way to Atlanta and I-10 on the way home. The trip would take us through at least 11 states and take over 3 weeks.

In preparation, I decided it was worthwhile to invest in a new copy of The Next Exit, a road trip must for those travelling on interstate highways. After five or six years, undoubtedly things had changed. This reference lists every business at every exit on every interstate…it can be a godsend for getting through a long day on the road.

Along with my usual food concerns, my new hobby of knitting also had to be accommodated. What would I knit on the road? socks? a sweater? something completely different and new? Ultimately, I decided to tackle beaded lace in the form of a beautiful scarf. When finished, this would also become my souvenir of the trip.

As we weren’t required to be in Atlanta until the 4th, we decided to leave California on the 1st of April. That meant I would arrive at Lynne’s house on the 31st and we’d leave the following morning, bright and early.

Kathleen dropped me off at Lynne’s mid-afternoon on Tuesday. She needed to get back to Sacramento to teach her kids’ aikido class by late afternoon so she didn’t stick around Walnut Creek very long.

Lynne and I hung out in the den, talking about our plans and the upcoming adventure. We took a look at Avery’s shaved chin–the result of a nasty encounter with a squirrel.

As for the boys, they kept their distance from one another; Avery on his bed and Rogie in his, brought from home. Rogie had forgotten that he’d been rather mean to Avery last year in Oregon…Avery had not.

Even though I’d brought his chewie (one of the only toys known to man that stands up to Rogie), Roges was quite taken with the wide selection of toys to be found in the toybox. Knowing his penchant for stuffie vivisection, I wasn’t too keen on Rogie having full access to other dogs’ toys. Lynne assured us that he could chew on anything he wanted.

Leaving his chewie in his bed, Rogie’s first choice was a wonderful, big stuffed frog. It had squeakies in the feet and was just fantastic. Rogie couldn’t wait to pith that sucker and start his dissection but I couldn’t bear to see such a nice new toy sacrificed to his science experiments. I took it away and gave him an old hedgehog.

Within minutes, the hedgehog was a mere shell of its former self with stuffing and squeaker littered about Rogie’s bed. Having finished it off, Rogie went back to the toybox for something new. His head dove beneath the toys as if he were bobbing for apples; he pulled out an old bone and returned to his bed. After a few minutes of chewing, he decided it was a little too bland and went back for something else.

After bobbing a few more times into the toybox, Rogie surfaced with another bone, this one a ball joint from a cow. Happily, Rogie retired to his bed and began his assault on the bone. Bits of bone were flying off his booty and Rogie gnawed to his heart’s content.

Crack!

“I hope that wasn’t his tooth.” I took a look at the bone. Hmmm. There was a little bit of blood on it but that might just be from his gums, right? I moved in for a closer inspection while Rogie continued to chew.

Hmmmm. There was quite a bit of blood on the bone. Best check it out.

Sure enough, Rogie had given himself a slab fracture of one of his molars. As I felt the outside of his cheek, I could feel the tooth grind against itself. Obviously, this wasn’t just going to go away.

Lynne found me her vet’s business card and I called to make him an appointment. There was an opening at 5:00, half an hour away, and so we loaded up the Little Dude and headed off to the dentist.

Sure enough, Rogie’s tooth was finished, having split in two down the centre, exposing the pulp. The clinic could remove it straight away; we could come back close to closing to pick him up.

We returned to Lynne’s for dinner and to wait for Rogie’s surgery to be finished. After eating a fantastic meal of beef and asparagus with black bean sauce (hopefully, Lynne will share the recipe when we get home!), I reckoned it would be a good time to start knitting my scarf. I cast on and knit the first two rows. Maybe it was distraction over Rogie’s surgery or distraction over the American Idol results but I totally screwed up those two rows.

I gave in to the inevitable, ripped out the knitting, and decided to start the scarf the following day.

The vet clinic called to report that Rogie had come through his surgery well, although they’d had to do quite a bit of drilling to get the tooth’s roots out. We could pick him up just before their closing time of 10 p.m.

Upon our arrival, Rogie looked unfazed by his ordeal but clearly wanted to leave the vet clinic. I settled his bill and we returned to Lynne’s home, anxious to put the day behind us and get started on our trip.

During our absence, Avery had peed on Rogie’s precious chewie. Poor Rogie…I guess it just wasn’t his day.