I'm gonna take this opportunity to pimp Kansas a bit more.

A stiff shuffle from my office door to my car.  Grey is the color of my mother earth's hair...and skin...and eyes and pretty much everything else in a dusting of salt and sand.  The wind, the breath of Thor wafts out of the North at about 1 million miles per hour. And Chicagoians think they have it bad.  The wind picks up the sand and blasts the paint off of cars...this is the land of Ah's...but Dorothy split for L.A. years ago...where I believe she died of a drug overdose.  Or perhaps it was New York. 

I look up, an unnatural pose in this condition, windchill of 20 below freezes the mucous in my nose and I remember the words of my father on days like this.  "God's Country."

But Dad's never been to Cabo!

I think Eugene should come to Kansas.

Yours...and pretty much everyone elses...

PRH