Kansas

Would you like to see a picture that accurately depicts the mental anguish caused by driving across the state of Kansas?

It didn't begin this way. The first few hours into our journey across Kansas made me feel humbled. Small. As if I were a tiny speck of dust floating in the grand scheme of the universe. I could stand on the ground and see for miles.

People in the south talk about the wide open spaces. People in south need to shut up about the wide open spaces because chances are they haven't been to Kansas and therefore have never seen what REAL wide open spaces are. In case there was any confusion:

Wide Open Spaces([wahyd oh-puhn speysez] (noun): Kansas

But oh, how the wide open spaces take their toll! Within hours, time slowed down and the scenery melted into a living collage of fields, decrepit signs that warned me of my upcoming descent into Hell, and the occasional museum dedicated to The Wizard of Oz.

Determined to not let the opportunity go to waste, I would randomly pull over and take pictures of James and myself doing hoodrat things in the road.

Three fourths of the way across, I saw a shining beacon of hope:

"See the world's largest prarie dog?!" I exclaimed loudly enough to cause a one-car accident, "We have to go."

Every other mile brought a new sign foretold us of this magnificently massive dog of the prairie. Unfortunately, as we approached the farm we noticed that it was frighteningly rickety and reminiscent of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. We decided to pass.

That was pretty much Kansas in a nutshell. 

Colorado and the Mia Bird!

My earliest memory of my sister remains a true testament as to why we had an extremely volatile relationship for the first three fourths of my life. My parents, in an effort to save money and conserve water, would make us take baths together. One evening, I apparently decided to poop in the the tub. My sister happened to be sitting on the other side. I do not specifically recall the actual act of pooping, but I do remember my sister's blood curdling scream when she realized that I had passed an unholy third party directly into the tub.

Time heals all wounds, though - even that one - and my sister and I eventually grew into semi-well adjusted young women and, one day, Jennifer genetically passed on our weirdness in the form of a  child. (I tried to appease my mother in a similar fashion by adopting two ferrets, but she never took to them the same way she took to the actual grandchildren.) She and my niece, last seen here, live in Colorado and enjoy extreme crossfit, hot yoga, and Wii Bolt. 

"You are going to visit them on your way to California, right?" my father asked.

"I was thinking about it."

"Because you're awful if you don't."

"I guess we're stopping there, then." 

In order to stop in Colorado, though, you have to drive there. Since the drive is miles and miles of grass and fields, I spiced up the picture a little bit with my favorite iPhone app of all time, Cat Paint. 

Despite the fact that I wish that, "Good God, No," were an option on those quizzes that ask if you ever plan to bear children, I am remarkably great with kids. My significant other, though?

"My idea of relating to children," they told me one day, "is taking the trouble maker aside and giving him a lecture on how listening to Jimi Hendrix will one day make him cool." 

As we drove to Colorado, they turned to me and asked, "Do you think your niece will like me?" 

"Mia likes anyone who pays attention to her," I replied, "So yeah. Just be prepared for her to sit on you."

Then, after noticing that this comment failed to satisfy, I added,

"Mia is like us. She talks to herself, imagines elaborate imaginary scenarios into the car window, and sometimes pretends that she is a dog." 

I wasn't lying. Like her auntie, Mia is a delightfully strange little bird. Check out this incredible keychain that she immediately gravitated toward in a Manitou Springs shop:

This photo explains everything ever.

When I called my mother to tell her that we had safely arrived at Jennifer's, she said,
"Wonderful. Now be sure to take some pictures of the two of you together or don't come home. Good ones, too. I mean this."

So Jennifer took us to Garden of the Gods and we snapped some photographs for our mom. We have come a long way from that moment where I unceremoniously polluted the bathwater.

The Sams Girls.

To show you just how dank my niece is, check out what she does - on command, I would like to add - when you say, "MIA. Metal face."

Arrr!

Our stop in Colorado ended way too soon. We had to prepare for a long, long drive across Kansas. I will return, though! The Mia Bird and I will reunite once again!

Tell me that this isn't the greatest picture in the world.

It's HERE! The Godamsterdam promo!

Many of you may or may not remember how I was blonde for months because of a little indie pilot called Godamsterdam. Well, the pitches have been made and it's now safe to share the teaser with the public, so HERE IT IS!

Let me tell you about this place called Chicago.

Considering that my knowledge of Chicago consisted of the fact that they had football playing bears and a religious commune (read: cult) called Jesus People USA, you can imagine just how easily the city amazed me. When I realized it had choice location beside a body of water, a giant ferris wheel, and a giant coffee bean, I was ready to call it a day and dub Chicago the greatest city that I had ever seen.

Then I tried to park my car for an hour and I nearly took it all back.

Our first glimpse of the windy city.

We had missed out on some choice kitschy tourist attractions en route to Chicago (I still regret our failure to stop at Dinosaur World), so I wanted to make sure that we hit at least one place matching that description during our stay.
"Kitschy?" asked a friend and former classmate we were visiting, "Well. I mean. You could always go to Navy Pier."

I knew that Navy Pier was legit the second that I saw the teams of giant tourists. The midday sun had  made their skin indistinguishable from slabs of raw salmon. The women fanned themselves with one hand and wrangled children with leashes thinly disguised as backpacks in the other. Their husbands drank $7 Bud Lights and not-so-discreetly stared at the young women in bikinis with an expression that reeked of the subtext, "I am a red faced boozebag."

I love tourist stereotypes. James, noticing that there was a distinct lack of Asians with cameras, grabbed my DSLR and said, "I'm sorry. I just have to." 

Navy Pier makes me feel metal.

Chicago also had one of the most amazing zoos I have ever seen in my life. Small animals inspire fits of emotional highs and lows to erupt from my soul. The Chicago zoo had an entire house of monkeys called the Monkey House. Each room made my heart race more and more until the experience culminated into a single moment where I saw a pied tamarin and almost had a nosebleed.

I saw a Giraffe.

I'm not a vegan, but I do like to twist my hipster-liberal dimples from time to time and pretend that I can engage in intelligent discourse about fake meat. Chicago's diverse nature lends itself to indulging that part of my personality. My first restaurant experience in the Chi' boasted quinoa, tempeh, and freshly blended wheat grass (which I heard is supposed to make your pee smell fantastic).

I have to hand it to them: the food in Chicago is incredible. You can wander around every corner and find something delicious and (mostly) affordable to eat. Check out this Thai place we found on our way to the metro station:

The chairs and tables were made out of recycled machinery and the entire space featured some killer decor made out of old advertisements and gadgets.

All of the metro stations featured some kind of funky artwork on their walls. I'm fairly certain that this particular wall contains a secret message encoded into its hieroglyphic-esque illustrations. 

Our visit ended entirely too soon and, in the end, James and I had to leave Chicago without seeing the Japooza Cult or the giant coffee bean.

That's fine; Chicago is definitely one of those cities that makes me say, "until next time," and mean it.