We’re not in Kansas anymore
For ten days my daughter and I lived in Ottawa, Kansas. She was creating beautiful music, while I was left to explore a city frozen in time. Ottawa’s Population was 12,500 in 2004 and this quaint town oozed of red, white and blue Americana. Street names like Willow and Cedar intersected with first through Fifteenth Street. Grass was everywhere, if you had a sit-down lawn mower, you would be Midwest Bill Gates. Hundred foot high oak trees lined streets paved with bricks. It is a place where the youth want to get the hell out and the elderly have the hospice on speed dial. A few yuppies have tricked in but they were well hidden. As a world traveler I was mesmerized by my first visit to a prairie state. “Look out for rain and find the tornado basements” I was warned upon my departure. Yes, it was humid but they had frigid air conditioning. Why didn’t anyone tell me the Midwest was so freaking beautiful?
I have a creepy habit when I travel; I always price real estate, looking for some way out of Las Vegas. It’s like a game of chess, what could I sell my home for and buy a house for cash and keep working remotely to just keep food on the table. Of course, I don’t want any hellish heat or the crazy snow, just something absolutely perfect, my happy ever after, knowing full well it may actually be right under my nose.
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