After wandering around Kansas for a month and basically acting as though I was still in France (touring local
vineyards, making
macarons, having wine and cheese
with friends), Joe and I drove north and then east, taking in the sights of I90 (
Chicago,
Cleveland, tollbooths) and
US20 (snowmobile crossing signs,
local diners).
Now I'm in Syracuse. It has been raining non-stop, a cashier has asked me, upon seeing my Kansas ID and learning that I'd just moved here, "If you don't mind me asking, why'd ya move here? I've been trying to get out of here my whole life!," and I don't know where to park [see below (seriously, is that a joke?)].
