I am home again. If I ever...ever...say I am going somewhere again would someone hit me over the head!.  The traffic on the Turner Turnpike was awful.  Simi trucks nose to nose for miles and miles.  And then...I got lost after I got to Tulsa.  I’ve driven it a zillion times, but I got lost.

So I stopped at a building in the middle of nowhere, with a locked glass door, and the man inside couldn’t understand me.  He was mideastern, and his English was so bad he couldn’t understand the difference between Choteau and Choctaw.  And then I realized I was in a building in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t know where I was, and nobody else knew where I was.  And all around me were glass jars full of white powder lined up shelf after shelf--and it wasn’t flour.

Long story short.  The man was very gracious, finally let me out of the locked door and got me on my way, and instead of sending me to Choctaw I got to Choteau.  Yes.  I did something stupid.  I won’t do that again.  I understand now why all the doors were locked and it took identification to get in.  And no, I didn’t buy any of the “white powder.”