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Dear readers.  It’s been ages, I know.  I’m sorry.  I have been out of town for almost two weeks on a sort of wildly inexplicable and insane road trip from LA to Berkeley and then through Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, some other states, and then to Tennessee.  Heather, my best friend from childhood (who has been living in LA), decided to move back to our hometown, Nashville, and she convinced me to drive with her.  We’d take the northern route, as it would be more scenic, she reasoned.  Neither of us really, as native southerners and east coasters, could have imagined the snow and ice and sleet and steep precipices covered in all of those that would await us (see photo above).

In fact, I don’t think I can even get all into it here, but I will say that at one point we were waved over (in northern California) and were required to buy snow chains to put on her tires.  But somehow, despite the terror, we sort of embraced the whole snow thing, listened to Christmas songs on Pandora most of the way, and survived about 50 hours of solid car time without completely killing each other.  We also may have stayed at the Waldorf Astoria in Park City.  We also may have been asked by two separate, creepy groups of guys in one the hotel bars whether we had just come from a Justin Bieber concert.  Also, I fell in love with St. Louis and this awesome church there.

At any rate, one downside of so much time on the road was that it became incredibly hard to eat anything healthy.  And then, the stress of constantly almost dying caused our bodies to revolt against us even further and make us eat things that we would never, in the course of normal lives, eat.  Caramel Bugles, king sized Butterfingers, questionable broccoli cheese soup from a Blimpie in Kansas…

So one of the nights, around midnight in 15 degree weather somewhere between Utah and Colorado we started talking about salad.  Oh my stars. What kind of salad greens we like (neither of us care for spinach, and Heather loves “arugs” as she has fondly nicknamed arugula).  She described various salad recipes, and all I could think about was just an enormous bowl of good, strong bitter greens with salt and pepper and olive oil and vinegar and maybe a poached egg on top.  It was torture.

And finally I made it home last night, went straight to the grocery, and bought some wonderful mixed greens and a box of good, fresh eggs, and I poached up those eggs and ate them on top of the salad with a bowl of hot tomato soup and John next to me…  Anyway, I guess the point I am trying to make is that, as marvelous as the trip was, it is good to be home.

p.s.– Heather, I miss you!  And I’m already thinking of plans for our 2022 trip of chaos and disaster!  I mean, probably Paris, right?

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