Greetings from Iowa.

As I drove up to our hotel tonight, my cell phone rang. Ben gave us a frightening update on the fires in the Austin area. He and Amber have been packing the things they want to save in case they are evacuated from their home.

Anyone caught grilling food or smoking outdoors will be arrested on the spot.

The winds are high; the temperature has dropped to the 80’s. Fires have broken out in nearby neighborhoods.

Please say a prayer for the folks in Texas. Ben & family are in the Brushy Creek area of Round Rock, which I hope will not be mentioned on the news. For updates, you can check here:

http://www.statesman.com/

Meanwhile, we are in Iowa.  We spent the night with good friends in Lincoln, Nebraska (some of you met them at the lake–remember the drummer who used the frying pan?).

Then we went on to visit more good friends in Lincoln.

Dick, on the left, knows a lot about cattle.  Jack, on the right, knows a lot about cooking.  They are two of the funniest guys I know–is that because they are Nebraskans?

Yes.

Dick’s wife Annie knows a lot about quilts.  She knows more about quilts than anyone I’ve ever met.  And when she’s not quilting, painting furniture, going to garage sales, gardening or playing with her granddaughters, she makes beautiful ornaments and creates amazing things out of stuff that other people throw away.  Last winter she made me my very own doll quilt.  Just because I didn’t have one.

 We hated to rush through Nebraska, but this year we’re determined to avoid those 500+ mile days.  So visiting time was very, very limited.  We had to cross as much of Iowa as we could before dark in order to make the rest of the trip less exhausting.

I’d like to thank whoever invented the concept of huge gas stations with snacks, food, coffee, cold drinks and big, clean restrooms.  Was it a woman?  Bet it was.  I’ll have to google that.

Speaking of inventions, here’s a strange one:  a steakhouse where you grill your own dinner.  Especially next to a hotel by the interstate.  Yep, after driving for hours on I-80, I always fantasize about cooking my own meat over a 5’x5′ pit.

I ordered the pulled pork sandwich instead.  Banjo Man chose the soup & salad bar (he might still be pouting because I wouldn’t let him order the white bean chicken chili at lunch).

Back in the hotel room I smelled smoke and thought I was hallucinating, due to being so worried about the kids in Texas.  It took me a couple of minutes to realize it was the do-it-yourself steakhouse’s fault.

Nice to know I haven’t lost my mind after 6 days in the car.

I’m going to crawl into bed now with the “Club Calf Auction” catalogue that Dick gave me.  He doesn’t realize he has volunteered to be a research assistant for my next ranching novel.

Think good thoughts about Austin and Round Rock, okay?