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At this writing, I am stuck in small town Nebraska, in a quaint motel right out of the 60's. Cell service is non-existent, so I can't get my photos off my phone and onto Facebook. I have no car because it is waiting to be looked at in a shop, that is, if the nice tow truck driver dropped it there after he dropped me and Zinga at our room at the quaint motel. Maybe he took it home. I said, "Enjoy my car!" as I handed him my keys, which also included my storage room key in Ohio, and some other key...(not yours, Meggo.) Well he seemed like a nice young guy, has 3 children, aged almost 7, 3, and the baby, 6 mos. He let Zinga ride in the cab of his newish red truck, with me too, of course.

The motel has that wallpaper photo of a pine tree in front of a lake that you've probably seen before, if anyone you know has a house they have not remodeled since 1967. The key to my room is a real key with a real plastic fob, with the room number imbedded right on it. This is a great improvement over modern motel keys that are like credit cards, which I can never dig out of my full pockets when I am carrying all my plastic bags of junk plus a dog leash with an eager dog on the other end. Then the credit card key doesn't work even after you insert it 5 times; it keeps coming up a red light. Sometimes, since the room number isn't on it, I discover I am putting it in the wrong door. (I wondered why someone was screaming in my room. )

I thought the room had no heat and I was freezing from being outside getting my stuff out of my car as the tow truck driver was driving it away. I finally figured out the air conditioner, located at the top of a wall, put out heat as well as cold air. It is very hot in here now. There is a fake leather easy chair from the 60's, some low dressers that might be from the 70's, lampshades with the plastic still on them, and a wrinkled carpet. And a photo of a barrel cactus, signed by M Hannan, in pencil, in case he/she changes his/ her mind about whether or not they took the photo.

Cool fake wood grain paneling and a sliding metal window in the bathroom, with no curtain whatsoever, because the glass is that bumpy plastic stuff.

There is a diner right next door, from the 50's. That was a good thing because we are sort of isolated, near the interstate. In fact it is called the Interstate Motel. Clever. I have no car, so I left Zinga in my cool 60's room and walked over. The waitresses looked like high school girls, with tight clothing and long painted nails. So I ordered coffee and the hot turkey sandwich, because it seemed like the right thing to do, and I have always wondered what one of those hot beef or turkey sandwiches tasted like. My waitress was very surprised that I ordered the fries and not the mashed potatoes; I think there as some confusion as to whether the copious gravy that is the feature of these sandwiches would go over or under the fries.

I was dismayed to find the little bowl of cream had only Coffeemate . Not a dairy product in sight. I felt I was imposing to ask for milk, but she did bring me one of those small stainless steel pitchers of some percentage of milk. My coffee cup had the scent of either perfume or dish soap. It was weak, but she did fill it twice more. The sandwich was all I had hoped for. A soggy piece of cheap white bread with a thick slab of something vaguely turkey-like, but I don't see how anyone could have cut it from any know turkey I have ever met. The gravy was brown, very salty, and reminiscent of those powered gravy mixes you always see in the grocery next to the powered dip mixes. I dipped my fries in the brown stuff and saved a lot of the slab of turkey-like substance for Zinga, who loved it. I know, I should have ordered a salad, but I didn't want to sound too snobbish complaining about iceberg lettuce, pale tomatoes, and ranch dressing. No other vegetables were on the menu. Tomorrow I plan on ordering the veggie omelet. It will be interesting to see what vegetables they come up with. cheap evening dresses

I left after my waitress turned off the tv, just as I was getting interested in how they were going to pull the semi truck up out if the ravine beside the icy mountain road, in some reality show featuring oversized men in overalls with oversized tow trucks, crane arms, and competition among themselves as to who was the bravest, meanest, tow truck wrangler in all of Alaska, or Montana, or Wyoming, or wherever it was filmed. I said Wyoming because I passed a semi trailer lying on its side beside I -80, as I drove under flashing sings screaming, "over 60mph winds" "light and high profile vehicles
prohibited" "exit now" . But no snow, no rain, just a flashing battery light on my dashboard.

Thus I am pleasantly full, and happily ensconced in a warm...very warm...room with my loving pooch curled up by my side on a double bed with soft pillows and a floral print polyester bedspread, which I pulled aside.

Life is good. God is good. Dog is good.