A Weekend With Sisters to Tulsa, OK

 Just because you see OK in the title doesn't mean the trip was okay. 

Lenora, Debbie and Me     I have a chick on each shoulder.

My sister, Lenora, bought almost 12 acres next door to where we grew up on Springhill Road in Swartz.  She actually got me started with my backyard chickens.  I had always wanted them, but never just did it. So when she got her first order, she gave me 4.  But then I jumped off into the goat thing.   

Now Lenora is getting baby doll sheep and goats. She and I have a blue-eyed buck on reserve from Shekinah Creek Ranch in OK that we plan on sharing, but as of yet he has not been born.  Lenora found through an internet search a 1 year old black baby doll ewe and a 4 month old white ram for sell in Tulsa.  So over the Labor Day Weekend, we were going to make a livestock run to Oklahoma. Our other sister, Debbie, decided just for fun she would ride along with us.  I'm the oldest of 6 children, Debbie is 2 and 1/2 years younger than I am and Lenora, the 3rd sibling, is 12 months younger than Debbie.

Our first obstacle was actually leaving on Saturday at noon.  We had planned this for 2 weeks.  Lenora has a well established record for being 4 to 6 hours late for everything; with the possible exception of work.  Most events are ending when she shows up.  She is the only person I know who has no concept to time passing.  Mom, Lenora and I had a trip to New Orleans a few years back.  The plan was to be in New Orleans to meet up with another group at noon.  Lenora arrived at my house at 6 p.m; therefore we got there at midnight.  I get a migraine waiting like that.  It literally makes me sick and this has happened several times when making plans with Lenora.  I can count on Debbie being 30 minutes early and I'm usually right on time or 15 minutes late at the most.

So Debbie and I had several conversations on how to get Lenora to my house for a noon departure.  Friday night she was suppose to spend the night with me.  I waited until 11:30 p.m. Friday and called her to see how much later she was going to be.  She said she had decided to spend the night at her daughter's, so I could go to bed.  I did, because I would be sick waiting on her much longer.  She arrived in Shreveport at her daughter's sometime after 3 a.m.   But she was at my house by 11 a.m. and we left about 12:15--my 15 minute tardy tolerance.  Of course, Debbie was at my house at 9 a.m. as I was getting out of the shower.  Early is great; late and the world comes to an end.

I love that she has poka dots around her middle

Lenora was the driver, because she had her youngest son's truck to haul the sheep in the back.  I rode up front, because I had big plans to find a blue-eyed goat somewhere in Oklahoma and it would ride with me in the back seat on the return trip. Debbie wouldn't think it fair to have to ride beside my goat.  She had already asked was she expected to ride in the backseat with the goat.  I had spent the hours I was waiting for Lenora, Friday night, googling blue-eyed goats in Oklahoma.  I had found a ranch 20 miles west of Tulsa called Cimarron Valley Ranch.  It looked like she had a 2 year old doe named Lucy for sale.  It turned out Lucy was already sold, but she was one of the most beautiful goats I have seen.  But the owner, Deb, said she has an 8 month old doe that she might sell. She had planned to keep her.  Lenora and Debbie agreed that we would at least go by and check out the ranch Sunday before heading home.


Anyway, right out of Shreveport Lenora tells us she forgot the GPS, but her I-Phone is just as good.  But I always have a backup plan and for that matter a backup to my backup.  So I had printed up directions to the hotel in Tulsa where I had made a reservation, directions for getting from the hotel to the farm to pick up the sheep and directions from the sheep farm to Cimarron to look at the goats.  So I thought all was well.

For entertainment I had brought along my road trip journal.  It has a name I cannot write in a blog. It's sort of a parody of Harlequin Romances. It is about actual places and the people traveling with me, but the events are outlandishly fictitious. My first journal entry was when Debbie, Mother and I drove to Minnesota to visit Uncle Eddie on July 11, 1999. Mother screamed most of the way there, "Don't write that trash down!  Somebody might read that and believe it." My thoughts were, "We can only hope."
Well, we missed our first turn when we crossed the Texas line because we were laughing and making up our own adventure story. But I was still confident that all was well.  

Debbie is hamming it up. Lenora does not think we are funny.

Debbie took pictures of me taking pictures and she posted them on FB.

Then Debbie and Lenora decided they want to stop along the way to look at every little junk store that looked interesting.  So I let go of my hopes of making it to the hotel in time to see the LSU/Oregon game.  But I had 2 relatives sending me update texts.  My other problem with stopping is: shopping=buying.  I just have enough cash for a goat and I don't want to spend money in the bank.  I only bought a $2 belt to use on a future purse I will someday make and I tried to negotiate one another item, but they didn't budge on the price.  We all 3 went in together to buy Debbie's husband, Ken, a birthday present. We also had to make a stop at WalMart so Lenora could buy a tarp to go over the sheep. Rain was predicted.  I hate WalMart, so I walked behind her taking pictures. I know how to get back at people who irritate me.  But I am going to be kind and not post those pictures.


 
Pretty soon it was obvious that as the driver, Lenora is also the navigator and DECIDER.  I have never ridden with anyone who would not let the other person in the front be the navigator and read the map.  Oh yeah, at a stop Debbie bought a map. By now my directions could best be used for toilet paper.  We became hopelessly lost when we hit Tulsa at 11 p.m.  I had been riding up front watching Lenora try to read that tiny writing on her I-phone while driving on interstate and all the while she ignored Debbie's reading of possible directions from the map until finally I called the hotel.  It took 3 calls, because the young guy didn't know Tulsa well enough to give good directions.  I thought at one point I was just going to start crying in frustration.  We made it to the hotel after driving around and around for over an hour and then, I know it was the same guy, our room reservation was messed up. So instead of a suite with 2 double beds; we had a suite with a king bed and a sofa bed.  I chose the sofa and went straight to bed.

I almost smiled.

We got up early, had a complimentary breakfast and headed to the sheep farm.  It was impossible to find--dirt roads.  So the owner met us at a Quik Trip and we followed him. 




Lenora had a great time loading up Ewela May and Lambert.  
 
She had bought harnesses, like I have for my goats, but these lambs were not pets, so the harnesses were quickly discarded.
 












Trying to leave this farm, we drove all over the place.  Lenora had no idea how to escape. I think Lenora was having an adventure, but I felt trapped in a truck. 


Twelve hours the previous day had taken it's toll on me and I felt I would go insane if this turned into another 12 hour drive. 
Finally, the farmer was leaving and we followed him out. 

Now we had to drive to the other side of Tulsa to find the goat farm.  Thank goodness it was visible from the highway!  Her farm was great.  She practices bio-security so we had the option of stepping into a pan of sanitizing fluid or not walking into the pasture.  Of course we sanitized our shoes and went to see the goats. This time I forgot my camera in the truck, but I told the owner I would be copying her pictures and she was fine with that.

So now I have Honey Bunny in a dog crate on the back seat with me.  Since Lenora has told us repeatedly not to give her directions; we watched in horror as she turned the wrong way out of the driveway. 



After we had turned around and were at a stop sign, where a fire truck and many firemen and young people were standing with boots to take up money for MS; Debbie burst into tears and got out of the truck saying, "I'm walking right over there to that police station and calling Ken to come get me.  I can't stand this anymore."  Oh, my words exactly, except substitute Don for Ken!  Whereas I have faith that Ken would come to get Debbie, I wisely know that Don's response to my call would be, "Get you butt back in that truck.  You can handle anything."  I can, but it doesn't mean it won't make me sick afterwards.  


Lenora pulled into a church parking lot that was right beside the police station.  She turned to me and yelled, "What am I suppose to do, just be quiet and take directions like a dumb mute?"  I replied, "That would be such an improvement." I stayed in the truck and petted my new goat and watched as Debbie and Lenora had a come to Jesus meeting right there in the parking lot of the Church of Christ.  They quit when they saw me pointing my camera at them.  And for a minute I thought they were going to get me. But we quit all those hair pulling fights in our preteens when we became concerned that bald headed girls didn't get boyfriends. I put my camera down quickly.  I did get one picture though! Documentation!


I can't say things got better, but Debbie, Honey Bunny and I did not end up at the police station waiting for Ken to drive to Tulsa and get us.  We just quit saying anything, certainly no directions, and I prayed that at some time, in the not too distant future, I would arrive home and not have to sit by a cute little goat that was now a stinky little goat. The return trip also took 12 hours for me. And I did not blog for a week because I, in fact, did go insane. Actually, the 3 goats were great therapy.  I sat out in their pen for over an hour introducing Honey Bunny to Dottie Belle and Gypsy.  It was not a pretty sight.  The goats head-butting was very analogous to the past 24 hours I had just spent in a truck.  Debbie and Lenora got home around 1:30 a.m. because after dropping me off, they still had 2 and 1/2 hours to get home.

I did learn that sisters just grow old.  They never give up their sibling rivalries.  But I already knew that; I just keep forgetting it.