Home

After 31 hours of travel time, I held up relatively well until the plane touched down in Oklahoma City. "If you're from Oklahoma, welcome home!" the flight attendant announced. I was sentimentally struck by the remark. My eyes watered up and my heart filled with happiness. These are my people. I know my rights. I speak the language. I understand the cultural nuances. I was home.

My parents met me at the airport at midnight. There was dad in a sweatshirt from 1990 and mom was as cute as ever. Hugs and kisses all around. My luggage was the first off of the carousel. It doesn't get any better than that.

Jet lag set in, prompting me to wake up at 4:30 a.m. Perfect time to walk the dogs (seems to be the story of my life; somewhere, there are always dogs that need to be walked). Crisp, almost-winter air filled my lungs. No car horns, no smog. I think I could even smell cow manure, and I'm certain that I heard a rooster crow.

Luckily, driving a car is like riding a bike, you never forget. Oh, the sweet taste of freedom. To drive a car (a sweet PT Cruiser rental in my case) all by myself, felt fantastic. I cranked the radio to Christmas music, turned up the heat and blew bubbles with my gum. First stop was to pick up my 13-year-old niece who was playing hooky from school so that she could hang out with Aunt B. Next stop was Sonic for a diet Dr. Pepper with vanilla and then Victoria's Secret for proper pjs and undies.

I just can't get enough of this stuff. I love the USA.