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(c) 2012 Sherman Lambert

Wondering where I went? Yes, I really did go away. Sometimes you just have to get out of Dodge, even if you’re just going on a classic road trip across the wide open spaces of the Midwest prairie.

Sherman, Jackson, and I left Thursday night for Oklahoma to see my brother Scott and his family. After so many years of having to come to Colorado because Mom was here, they thought we ought to go there. True enough. Although Scott hosted a family reunion in a state park in Oklahoma a few years ago, I hadn’t been to their home since Mom and I came to nephew Chris’ high school graduation in 2007. The others hadn’t visited since 2002. Yikes.

As Scott and his wife Lori will tell you, Oklahoma City is way too far from Denver—approximately 11 to 12 hours by car. That’s just inconvenient, even it if it’s doable.

Although Sherman and I had made it to meet with everyone at Chris’ college in McPherson, Kansas twice in the last year and half, both for one of his football games and for his graduation, they still wanted us to visit them in their home, meet their new grandkids, see their remodeling, and partake of their hospitality.

Check, check, check, and check.

After my road-trip-related injury last year, I have become quite afraid about hitting the road, let alone about pushing through the drive in one day. That’s why we planned to spend the first night along the way since we weren’t leaving until a couple hours after Sherman got out of work. Still, we hadn’t planned to sit on the Interstate for an hour. We weren’t even stuck in the city, but we got to turn off the engine and wait anyway until a semi had been moved off the road. So we got in an impromptu picnic and got to read together while watching the almost full moon rise on a clear night made for driving.

(c) 2012 Sherman Lambert

When we pulled into our motel at 2:30 a.m. (lost an hour to a time zone change too), we just crept in quietly and fell asleep. Too bad our neighbor didn’t worry about creeping out, huh? Wouldn’t be a road trip if you couldn’t listen to the alarm in the next room beeping—ignored for at least 20 minutes or so which meant we got to get on the road sooner than planned. Yes, when Mr. Snooze-through-the-alarm did get up, then he took his motorcycle (Muffler? What muffler?) for a spin around the parking lot before parking it again and cranking a classic rock station. I like Z Z Top, really, but not as my wake-up call!

(c) 2012 Trina Lambert. This, however, is not normal!

Rise and shine, right? So we did, hitting city limits before afternoon rush hour, but, maybe taking the wrong turn and getting to experience rush hour anyway—another classic road trip experience—from my past anyway.

This was the first time in a long time we got together for no particular reason without extra tasks beyond shopping, visiting landmarks, eating out, going to church, hanging out at the house and backyard with their extended family, and watching movies. No agenda really. Had time to sit around and watch everyday living—even got to see both the dogs and the grandkids on a mission to do in tufts of decorative grass planted by my brother—the obsessive gardener/lawn guy—in apparent denial of the lifestyle he really lives. Anyone taking bets on how long they last?

Was good to leave town and do nothing out of the ordinary—well, other than practice patience while sitting on the highway and with our aforementioned motel neighbor.

I think I remember normal. Turns out, normal is good.

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(c) 2011 Christiana Lambert

I’m back—and not from outer space, but from Arizona and New Mexico. That’s right—our puppy, Furgus, celebrated his nine week milestone right here in our Colorado home.

By the beginning of this week, Sherman and I had puppy fever—bad—and we were over waiting for the puppy transport company to bring us our puppy. He was signed, sealed, and . . . not delivered. This was supposed to be the first time we had a chance to start from the beginning with a puppy. I know these early weeks are the most influential for developing a puppy’s lifelong character—we were not about to let him grow old before he came home to us.

Christiana finished finals this past Monday, but we didn’t get the details until it was too late to find a good price on a flight for her. Since she is working at the college this summer, she only has one week off before her job starts. Both Sherman and I really wanted her to have a break first.

(c) Christiana Lambert 2011

But, why couldn’t I go get her and take her with me on a road trip to spring the little tike from his birthplace outside Tombstone, Arizona? We could take a classic southwestern tour through New Mexico and Arizona minus the dramatic Thelma and Louise ending—well, without most of the Thelma and Louise experiences other than the scenery.

Talked with his breeder on Monday and left first thing Tuesday morning. Despite not sleeping well the night before, I was relaxed and singing along with my iPod as I drove through the back and forth of spring and winter. I was on a mission: a mission for dog.

Following a late lunch with both Christiana and Jackson in Durango where we left Jackson to finish school and return in the car on his own later in the week, she and I set off toward the Land of Enchantment. With an exhausted former college freshman sleeping by my side, I drank in the wide open spaces and fought the winds with my hands firmly on the wheel.

However, once I discovered we were lost, I woke my navigator. Then we continued on in the right direction through a whole lot of beautiful emptiness, with the setting sun’s rays bending light into pinks and purples. Once the sun disappeared, we reached utilitarian I-25, turning south past Albuquerque’s erratic drivers and into a starlit night that made us feel as if we were on some long and lonesome highway heading for the Hotel California.

No, instead we were on our way to Motel 6 in the town of Truth or Consequences, with Christiana doing battle with the winds that threatened us and caused our gas tank to slip dangerously low while we dipped up and down through canyons.

The next morning, the early birds (outside in the tree and in the motel lobby) awakened me, even if my dorm-trained daughter slept through all the noise. Yes, I couldn’t wait to get back out on the road again—soon, with a full tank of gas and anticipation in our hearts, we were back to cruising speed.

(c) 2011 Christiana Lambert


How often the landscape changed in this Wild, Wild West as we headed further south, then cut across to busy I-10, full of its semi trucks and fear-inducing dust storm warning signs. Across the border into Arizona, the rest area sported signs warning of poisonous snakes and insects. This was no sterile movie landscape, which we noticed even more with our first personal encounter with the Border Patrol on the way into Tombstone.

Once I finally deciphered the breeder’s desert southwest terms on the directions (wash does not equal a carwash and a mare motel does not have a neon sign), I was able to help Christiana navigate up a primitive road—as the sign warned—to a fenced-in house where English Springer Spaniels, big and small cavorted. We had reached the II Shea Ranch and Kennel.

(c) 2011 Christiana Lambert

We met Sue Shea, who told us our puppy was inside. As I watched dogs taking dust baths, I realized why our freshly-washed pup remained inside.

Then we were inside, too. Finally, we got to meet the Bret, now Furgus, we had only known from the pictures on II Shea website. No doubt about it, Sir Furgus was worthy of our dog-seeking quest.

This would turn into an even longer post if I told all the tales of our return journey. Suffice it to say, the day we picked up Furgus, our traveling efficiencies decreased due to frequent stops at rest areas, beside the road, parking lots, etc. We learned to sing louder than the puppy whining in the crate and managed to keep ourselves from getting ousted from the motel only by taking turns sleeping on the floor with the guy to prevent him from making that very loud-monkey-like howl of his.

The next day, though, he slept like a dream on the road trip’s final leg from Bernalillo, New Mexico to our home in Colorado. We, however, had to work to keep our sleep-deprived selves from joining him.

We reached metro Denver just as rush hour was working toward the rush in the hour(s).

Furgus was finally home—and so were we.

(c) 2011 Christiana Lambert

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