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So I'm cruising south through one of the I states heading home, cornfields on the left of me, cornfields on the right, here I am stuck in the middle with six guys. Let me tell you, after being with 6 guys for 8 days, my idea of debriefing involves a pedicure, facial and a bubblicious soak in a hot tub. Decontamination henceforth means removing all the free radical testosterones that soaked through my pores. I got enough in me that I wanted to kick the tires when we stopped for gas, pull up my pants and grunt "Att'l hold."
Somewhere around Peoria I got the very pronounced odor of hot pizza. After 6 days eating
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off portable feeding teams, I am so ready for pizza. A few miles later I txt'd David to look up the nearest Starbucks for me. He said there is none. I said "liar." So I pulled over in the town of
LeRoy, just to be sure. Yep, no Starbucks. "Why am I not surprised?" he txtd.
I find myself longing for my red shoes to click together "There's no place like home." But hey - only 12 more hours to go. I can hang.
-BTW - Due to a hair mishap, I am temporarily a redhead. - Just wanted to warn you.
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