FootFace

(In getting out, that is.) Don’t beat me up if you’re Kansas-lover. In my limited experience with the state, it’s just not the place for me.

(True of many resorts.) It’s a haven for richies. Doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful, in its languid, humid way.

But the cruise ship is a different story. Saw beautiful scenery and laid-back capital city.

Went to school and lived there for years. A lovely part of the country. Things seem very old and domesticated, whatever that means.

Never been to Vegas. Just Reno. I think Vegas would kill me.

Not a happy time. Stranded for days at a truck stop with all the other motorists whose cars turned into blocks of ice. We saw mouse tracks in the snow. Followed them all the way to the mouse who made them, dead in the cold.

Or, well, Seattle is, at least. Never lived anywhere else in Washington.

We drove through the Badlands in 1990 and loved it. They’re a strange moonscape. Serene, broken, forsaken.

So much so that I can’t help telling people about it while simultaneously saying to myself, “Shut up shut up! Stop saying it out loud! People will go there and wreck it!”

We go there every year (off-season). It’s quiet, beautiful, and wonderful.

I just don’t know! It’s the language. The trees. The picture I have in my head of a clean, modern, sensible, beautiful place.