One year later...
this blog rolls on.

Jesse is back in Belize--Buster is blogging the mission trip

My road adventure wasn't Memphis bound this time, but rather to the fertile plains of Indiana where the corn was arguably knee high.
We showed up for a cousin's wedding, finally taking the time for a 10 year reunion of sorts with my husband's clan. Some things had changed a lot--hairlines, for instance, and some things had not changed at all--Aunt Mabel, in particular.

So little time, so much food to remember--we managed to consume Indiana's infamous breaded pork tenderloins and Arni's junior salads at least twice. Hands down, the best 'loins are at Shouts, Anderson's bowling alley.
And the sorghum cole slaw we sampled at Berea, Kentucky's Boone Tavern Hotel is a winner.

Our houses of past, scattered across central and northern Indiana, were still in tact, sheltering strangers, painted new shades.
The Triple XXX root beer stand on West Lafayette's hill is predictably gaudy orange and brown striped, serving up the Duane Purvis All- American burger.

Teague's Mill, outside Gatlinburg, burned down 3 years ago before we could re-visit its catch-you-own-trout dinner and incomparable hot fudge cake. Crazy Horse Campground next door is thriving--all of its river sites along the deeply rutted road were occupied for the weekend. The Trout House in town had to do for dinner, and we'd grown a little too weary to stay with the masses, so we drove towards Knoxville for a good night's rest.

Of all the landmarks we visited, it was the cemeteries that remain frozen in time.
Those peaceful glens of grass, dotted with limestone and granite, landscaped with old trees, small shrubs, and the occasional poison ivy.

The biggest thrills:
watching fireflies light up at dusk over the sheep pasture.(It was our signal to drive back to town so our country cousins could arise with the sun.)

installing high speed internet for my mom. (At 86, there is so much to learn in so little time.)

calculating our precise location on the GPS and using a cell phone to direct the tow truck driver coming to our rescue in Franklin, Kentucky when the water pump gave up along I-65.
(These two handy gadgets are so worth not hitchhiking.)
The small town dealership had a surprisingly comfy waiting area with sofa, coke machine, the latest magazines, and cable TV with remote control. Too bad we had to leave at closing time!

watching fish jump at the NickaJack reservoir rest stop on I-75 South.
My husband says the fish were being hunted by bigger fish to cause such antics.

lunching at Seasons de Provence in Acworth, Georgia. (the owners from Nice have created their own next best thing to dining in the south--of sunny France.)

The best advice:
no matter how hard you try, you won't get caught up by bedtime the day you arrive home.