Franklinsanity

9:55 pm, near Spiceland, OH. We’re on our 5th state of the day, with 144 miles to go.

Columbus and our Sheraton there can’t come fast enough.

And, increasingly, the picturesque and picaresque Interstates of the far West and Further Midwest are looking – to me anyway – like the blah highways of my youth.  Like, you know, the Jersey Turnpike.

Indiana and Ohio should take better care of their roads, man  Waze is a sea of pothole icons.

Kelly is in the zone.  She’s even exchanged her contacts for her glasses.  Let’s call them her driving glasses, since she never ordinarily wears them, even though they look great.

Kids and dogs asleep.  The Farm seems far away and longer ago than just this morning.

But, like the Eagles said, we’re taking it easy.