My next book is a children’s book called BELLA AND THE MISSING BUTTERFLY LOCKET.

As part of my research, I took a road trip in November, to interview entomologists in Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Missouri, Oklahoma, and Arizona.

The trip was a successful, and crazy adventure. The trip began simple enough.

I met and interviewed an entomologist named Rachel Barger. Rachel works at the Idlewild Butterfly Farm,1100 Logan Street, Louisville KY, 40204 | (502) 384-8953. idlewildbutterflyfarm.com , and they’re on Facebook and Instagram too. I learned much valuable and useful information from Rachel.

Onto Arkansas and The Botanical Garden of the Ozarks which has phenomenal garden designs worth a visit, but no entomologist. But their butterfly expert offers random guidance and visits, and I’m to interview them over the telephone.

I did meet a brilliant garden designer by the name of Lee who volunteers at The Botanical Garden of the Ozark, and she agreed to be interviewed, but it took a wild exchange with another employee before that happened.

And so, the craziness begins.

An overzealous employee, a large lady linebacker, in full rage mode, lumbered up to nose-tip distance and blasted me with “My volunteers cannot not answer any questions.” Her hyper huff exhalation told me she was having a bad day.

I said, “Calm down, and lower your voice.” I reintroduced myself as an author from Virginia, who drove to Arkansas to interview staff and volunteers for research.

The lady’s tone, a sensation shrill, repeated her stern proclamations. I smiled and said “We’re done. You’ve made your point, you’re having a bad day and taking it out on volunteers and a guest of the garden which is unacceptable. I’m going now, to explore the rest of the garden, and here’s to you having a better day.”

She shambled off in one direction. I headed over to the next garden display.

I do recommend a visit, because it’s worth the trip, but remember to bring raw meat and a ton of tranquilizers, just in case.

A stop to buy a bottle of water in The Happy Donut Shop in Arkansas was bizarre.

I open the door and walk to the counter. Behind the counter, a five-foot, two-inch tall, sweet, old lady, throws me a smile. I grin and point to a bottle of water. “How much, mam?

“Donut?”

“No, thank you, mam, just the bottle of water please.”

“You like?” The lady motions to a cinnamon bun in the glass counter between us.

I give a quick nod no, but she’s spry. She crams the cinnamon bun and six different flavored donuts into a bag made for a smaller number of pastries. She pushes the bag and bottle of water into my hands. “Four dollars and 50 cents.”

A futile attempt to play push the bag met her no-you-don’t stare and sweet, old lady disposition. A futile swallow of air escapes between my teeth. I slide a five-dollar bill over the counter. She accepts and I’m free to go.

Next stop, The Honor Heights Park, Muskogee, OK was temporarily closed. I’ll email the park and have their entomologist contact me.

I got stopped in Texas for speeding, and the officer who pulled me over was kind. He asked why I was in such a hurry, and I told him “The man upstairs told me to write a book about butterflies, and I’m driving across the country to interview entomologists.” I showed him my phone’s GPS, showed him where I was and where I was headed. He went to his patrol car, then came back, and said, “I won’t give you a ticket, as long as you promise to put a cop in your butterfly book.” Of course, I told him “Yes, sir.”

Then I called my wife, and told her, “A cop helped me out, so I have to revise the ending of my book. Instead of Bella’s Grandmother Yetta, giving Bella their century-old family heirloom butterfly locket, and they both hug, now there’s an unexpected plot twist. Bella and her grandmother end up at the town’s butterfly garden, caught in the middle of a shootout between rival drug gangs and police.” She said, “You can’t end a children’s book like that.” And I told her “But kids grow up so fast these days.”

I was just messing with my wife, and said “Don’t worry, I’m keeping the original ending.”

In New Mexico, before I reached Albuquerque, it was dark, and I drove over an exploded eighteen-wheeler’s tire. This portion of tire was so wide it stretched across the entire lane and there was no way to steer around it.

It sounded and felt like I drove over the tire piece without incident. However, after a couple of miles, I heard a faint repeating whump-whump-whump. At the first exit, I stopped at a gas station to discover the tire piece I drove over had split – the rental SUV’s passenger rear side mud flap.

I called Alamo and filed a police report to turn into Alamo. The rest of the car appeared fine. I bought duct tape from the gas station and continue on to Albuquerque.

In Albuquerque, New Mexico, I stopped and checked into a Ramada hotel to participate in a three-day online author’s conference hosted by bestselling author Adam Hogue. An uber-bad cold was having fun, ripping through me, and made the all-day conferences intense, even online. I wanted to check out the ABQ Bio Park – Botanic Garden in Albuquerque, but I had to be in Sedona the next day, and thought, I’d come back afterward.

After the conference, I drove a quick six hours to Sedona, AZ. It was a struggle, but I arrived happy at 1:34 am, because I thought, I’ll just check into a hotel and crash.

Turns out, the least expensive hotel room in Sedona costs $308.00 per night, and none were available.

So, I drove the hour back to Flagstaff, found another Ramada hotel, took a quick power nap, then right back on the road to Sedona to meet a shaman at 10:00 am to swap energy work.

The Shaman’s energy work helped, but my cold worsened, and to give myself time to recover, I slept in the same Flagstaff hotel room for the next two days.

Two days of rest a welcomed recharge. I drove to Butterfly Wonderland in Scottsdale, AZ for my final chance to interview an entomologist. The number of visible butterflies I saw, surreal and sensational. I got great photos, and Guest Services spent two hours attempting to track down their entomologist before they discovered, it was their entomologist’s day off. I was given their contact information, and decided my cold still lingered, so I’d just drive home.

The best part about driving across country and back two weeks before Thanksgiving, is every State was fixing their roads and had miles of highway down to one lane down with molasses-dripping speeds. I swear the same guy in a water tanker truck passed me twice.

I made it back to my house the weekend before Thanksgiving.

On Friday, December 02, an author I didn’t know contacted me on Facebook, to invite me to participate in their upcoming online writing class for authors. I said “Great, I might pick up some things I can put in the book I’m writing. What’s your class about?”

The author said, “Erotica.”

I declined and told her “Invite me to the next one because I’m writing a children’s book at the moment and had to change the ending to make a cop happy to get out of a speeding ticket, and if I take your class, and incorporate class content, parents might get upset with all the sex and violence appearing in this kid’s book.”  The author laughed and said, “I understand.”

The morale of this story    ̶ writing a book can get you out of a speeding ticket and taking extra writing classes can help spice up your stories in unexpected ways, and if you ever get a chance to do a research road trip on your own across country – fly, take the train, and use Uber, because your body and bones shall appreciate your kindness.