We traveled today. I had the normal travel joy, but damnably tempered. A bit under duress, strained, contrived even. Still I saw things I’d never seen even though we drove a mere 2 hours from home. Towns are like people. Shaped by all their past experience, each is unique. If you don’t command your eyes to see that a pecan tree in Arkansas is different than one in Oklahoma, the melding of one square mile of American dirt into another will make all pecan trees appear the same. Eyes prefer lethargy and laziness. I fight mine constantly. So far I’m winning.

My feet need to be elevated so high onto the top rail the chair balances on a quarter inch of contact between it and the decking, one hand formed around a sweating glass of lemonade, the other making a louvered blind over my eyes squinting at the white heat of summer. I need the murderous sounds of withering grass clamoring for water in my ear. Okay for maybe a day I need that sound. I’m scraping the pan for some emotion, something good to tell you. It’s been a hard winter here. Lots of snow and cold. But far worse has been the lag of light. The laps of flame from the fireplace have done all they can to help, but their persistent cheer failed in their valiant attempt to coax smiles from us weeks ago. Now the flames leap and crackle ignored. Even the heat’s no longer appreciated.

I think cabbage thinly sliced into a searing wok with a glug of oil and soy sauce served with an overeasy egg and several hard shakes from a bottle of hot sauce is in order tomorrow. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s sunshine on a plate.

An egg is tragically absent from the plate below. None were in sight the last desperate time I made this.

After getting 22 hours away from home on our holiday road trip, my husband and I decided we were ready for our own bed. So we drove home in a day and a half.  It was a good decision - 10 nights on the road without our Tempurpedic mattress threw us into foam-deprived withdrawals.

One thing I didn’t miss: the computer. I made one post about a lonely, homeless fireplace from West Virginia, haven’t tweeted, facebooked, flickr’d, emailed, or stumbled. And all reading was done the old fashioned way - a book.  It was nice, but I’ve missed you.

Thank you for reading the SRT blog during 2009, for your comments, your encouraging kind words. Without you the blog would have been discontinued during one of my many road trips and never resumed even after a great night’s sleep in my own bed. You made 2009 a year I won’t forget.

Here’s wishing you and your family a happy, healthy, and prosperous New Year. - Tammie

New Year’s Eve 2009 blue moon taken on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

SRT is fluttering in blue ribbons. Years ago, flush with the career fever, I announced I no longer worked for trophies, pats on the back, or awards since you can’t eat those. I lied.

Being named by Jamie Jensen, author of Road Trip USA as one of the Top 10 Road Trip Blogs and recently winning the Portrait category of John Batdorff’s Black & White Photography contest has raised my chin and straightened my back.  I don’t want to consider there could only be 10 road trip blogs, and I know for certain John’s contest had some incredible entries, even in the Portrait category.

Blogs.com asked Jamie Jensen to compile a list of the Top 10 Road Trip blogs.  Here’s what he had to say about SRT:

“Much as I enjoy traveling with my family, there’s a sense of freedom and exhilaration that comes from hitting the road on your own. The existential excitement of the solo road trip is magically channeled by Tammie Dooley into this beautifully illustrated, thoughtful blog.”

Since I don’t think it possible to spread enough of the road trip love around, here’s the entire list, so you road trip aficionados or wanna-be’s can check out the others. Enjoy!

John Batdorff is a 2nd generation professional photographer whose work has been showcased by the National Museum of Wildlife Art in Jackson, Wyoming. He specializes in outdoor/landscape and travel photography.  John’s blog is a fun, perpetual photography course. He has a knack for presenting his experience and talented eye in a way that both entertains and better than that, sticks - you won’t forget the instruction he imparts.  Anyone wanting to improve their photography should follow his blog. Not only will you learn, but you’ll have a great time doing it.

Click here for all the winning captures in his latest contest.

The photograph of the woman taken during the 4-week backpacking trip to rural China with my son won the Portrait category.

Celebrate with me for this one brief post. We’ll return to the real world tomorrow. Actually, tomorrow is Thanksgiving!  Happy Thanksgiving. And thank you for being here.

I’m home tonight.  With no plans to work on any of my assignments due within the next few weeks, or even blog about the latest road trip, I sat down, propped up my feet, and opened the innocent looking package from my husband’s employer regarding medical insurance for 2010. This is not a comedic stand up routine folks. Despite the fact the American medical system is broke and front and center in the news, I plowed in. How bad could it be?

Really bad. Five minutes later, depressed at the knowledge the cost for our coverage would be increasing by one-third, with thoughts of an HMO flashing through my head like Boris Karloff with a flashlight under his chin, I made my way to the kitchen.

Tonight I’d make the persimmon bread from the recipe that accompanied my recent post about the fruit’s seed being a predictor of winter conditions. The persimmons purchased over a week ago have ripened nicely on the countertop and need some attention - as in a suspension of batter and an oven.

fruit, pecans, whiskey, raisins, butter, eggs. Forget about mixing all this together with flour and sugar; the individual components would be a gourmet meal for me.

Cutting into the first persimmon yields a soft, fleshy, orange fruit, the color for which fashion designers would need a brown bag. It’s that glorious.

Only thing missing: ummm, seeds. Nada. Zip. Zero. None. Whaaatttt??!!  My post that spawned a rush all over the world to purchase persimmons, is a LIE?!

no seeds!

Yes. And no. The trees that yielded the persimmons that yielded the seed that yielded the spoon indicating lots of snow this winter, were wild persimmons picked on my Dad’s ranch. Being the ranch is 3 hours from here and to achieve 2 cups of mash from the not-much-bigger-than-a-marble fruit would take a bushel, I opted for market persimmons.

Some desperate research indicates I purchased the most widely cultivated species: the Japanese persimmon ‘Hachiya’.  Another variety was also available (looked more like the ugly step sister of a tomato) for which I will return to the market tomorrow. I’m on a seed quest. And geez louise, so are some of you!

My advice if you’re looking to open a seed to shock and awe your friends and family with Farmer’s Almanac type winter predictions that are a bit more scientific than my beloved Magic 8 Ball, tell the person at your market what you want to do. They should be able to guide you towards a persimmon species with seeds, thereby rescuing my reputation as a, umm, as a highly regarded forecaster with a Farmer’s Almanac and a Magic 8 Ball sitting on her desk.

Tomorrow I’ll post about how the seed quest turned out. In the meantime, the bread is fantastic - my new favorite quick bread - better than banana nut bread, strawberry bread, or zucchini bread. It’s my new go to for gifts. Good thing we were low on milk.

Today I spent 52 seconds looking in the chips and cracker aisles for microwave popcorn before stopping someone.  “Aisle 12″ she said.  Wow! I was grateful for the time saved, and a smidgen intimidated by her snappy response. She was a shopper, just like me.  Only not just like me. She probably enjoyed being there and therefore had a grasp of the store I might acquire by the time I’m 90.

THESE are a common grocery store purchase. Beef jerky, canned nuts, and popcorn are not. And I realize this says chocolate "flavor". I'm okay with that.

Grocery shopping is a chore.  Then again, all shopping is a chore.  Many (mostly men) contend this is a refreshing quirk. I had one guy tell me I was a freak.  I’d been called worse by better men than he, so true to the dork I am, I awkwardly thanked him for the compliment.

Over the years I’ve found a few drawbacks about this aversion. The latest one to come to light is my lack of knowledge about the wonders found in the aisles of your neighborhood grocery store - things even that I desire.

I don’t go up and down every aisle. I go in with a list and I GET. Target aisles are cruised down as I pluck and run. Wandering down an aisle out of curiosity would never occur to me.  And I don’t look long for something out of the ordinary. I’ll stop anyone, employee or not, and ask if they know where something is. I figure most everyone in there knows more about the grocery store than I.

Hence my surprise today when I found the chocolate for which I’ve cursed Oklahoma grocery stores for not carrying. On Aisle 12. Who would have thought the chocolate I’ve coveted would be found on the aisle “beef jerky, canned nuts, and popcorn”?! The baking aisle is where I’ve always been directed in the past, but I want chocolate to eat, not cook with!  Do I need a road trip to Kansas City or Dallas just to buy chocolate?!  A friend directed me to an internet site, but I was overwhelmed by all the choices.  Similar to the first time I walked into a Nordstrom’s shoe department, I turned around and walked out. Only closing the browser window on the internet chocolate shop was a much faster exit.

No more curses. They had a very nice selection of top quality brands and a decent assortment. As you know, I’ve been suffering a bit of post adventure depression. This mother-lode of chocolate and a comment left yesterday by Aaron have caused the corners of my mouth to lift.  Looks like between the two, they’ve helped me execute my parents’ favorite line, “better pick up your lip before you step on it.”