Home

Intro.:
They say home is where your heart is, and for the longest time, my heart was anywhere where the corn didn't grow tall and the people were as liberal-minded as they come.

The west Coast:
Ah! That's better. Make friends: check. Get job: check. Schoolin': you betch'a! And after a few craaaaaazy adventures, I felt mostly settled. I knew Corvallis better than most natives my age and you know those people that everybody seems to know? Yeah, that was me. Yet three years later, when it comes time to move back to hot, humid, corn-growin', pig-stinkin' Iowa, I had some reservations.

Des Moines: I can't believe nobody told me the S' were silent!

Corn:
Ok, admittedly it smells like corn here. It really does. Its a distinct smell that, in the city, I can catch a faint hint on the breeze. At grandma's, its a constant reminder of its presence, as if seeing it everywhere weren't enough.

Birds:
Oh how I missed hearing the song birds! Cardinals, Mourning Doves, Yellow Flickers, the "Yoo-hoo"s of Chicka-dee-dee-dee's and Cicadas. The latter may not be a bird, but it undeniably falls into the category of the Iowa soundscape, feathers or no.

The trees:
It is nice to see the trees and plants I grew up around. (NERD!)

And how can we forget? The People:
I didn't realize this until I visited Iowa last summer, but there are distinctly subtle yet crucial differences between the social interactions of an Iowan and an Oregonian (yes, they really call themselves that). In Iowa, it all feels so natural! People talk to strangers in public, and (on the surface at least) are generally easy to talk to.
That, and my close friends and family live here. If that isn't warm and fuzzy (like a fluffy bra), I don't know what is.

In short:
I almost hate to admit it, but I really like it here! And I had put so much time and effort into hating it.