Keeping up with the Joneses

Iowa should come with a health warning: 'This state can seriously damage your waistline.' I've been here a week and I've put on about a stone. Barbecue, hot wings, burgers, steaks, pancakes... Mmm... Iowa. I love it, but I could never live here: I'd eat myself to death in about a month.

All the weight I lost due to my scrodged up sinus operation has come back with a vengeance. And who do I blame? Tamara Siler Jones, that's who! She, hubband Bill, the Kid, all the cats and Daisy the stinky Dawg, have made it their personal mission to ensure that I experience the best that Iowa has to offer. It's been an absolute blast.

I've been out shooting replica double-action six shooters, colt .45 semiautomatics, and an Uzi. I've been all over Des Moines. I've spoken to a Lieutenant in the county sheriff's office. I've eaten catfish, ribs, pancakes, and more red meat than any sensible person ever would. And I've loved every minute of it. OK, so I'm going to have to go on a Prune and Fig diet when I get home, but it's worth it ;}#

And now I'm off to New York.

But I'm going to miss Iowa and the Joneses. They're very, very cool people. Even if there is a preponderance of leg-hickies.