Back to Lubbock

Manfred had built up the glory of Cline's Corner, a "trading post" in New Mexico. He said I could buy anything there, from a head dress to a skeleton in a German war helmet to antique peanut brittle. It sounded like my kind of place, and like the kind of place that Thomas hates.

Once in this fantastic oasis, Thomas and I got separated. He knew right where to find me: the Indian Room. When he spotted me, I was wearing an elaborate necklace of wooden chili cutouts, shaking maracas, and trying to find the price tag on an enormous red feather head dress.

Cline's Corner really did have everything: squishy boobie stress balls; seashells with Native American faces painted on them and tied with red and green bows for Christmastime; assorted keychains; metal signs declaring "Native Parking Only;" moccasins; aforementioned wooden chili jewelry; toy bow-and-arrow sets; bears carved from logs; jawbreakers; garden fountains; elaborate dream catchers; bags of rocks; and a country buffet that defies the English language.

Because I didn't find the very precise type of friendship bracelet I was looking for, I left empty-handed, but my heart was full from the rich experience of visiting Cline's Corner. Thomas made me leave way too soon, as I could have easily spent half a day exploring.

We drove the few hours more to Lubbock, where Merlene received us with open arms, a garden-fresh dinner, and my favorite white fluffy robe. The remaining day-and-a-half in town was full of dog-walking with Sparky, the final nights of Olympics, and Rosa's--the most delicious Mexican fast food I've eaten since Taco Cabana. Thomas shaved a neck beard, with his 2 1/2 weeks worth of facial hair growth.

On Sunday afternoon, we packed out things and made one last sweep of the silver Golf. Thomas had to leave his new used surf board with his parents, since it unfornately didn't fit in the travel board bag. Merlene and Manfred stood at security, waving good-bye until we couldn't see them anymore.