In another life, I will live on a beach and collect seashells. In fact, after receiving a foot an a half of snow last weekend (an early April Fools prank courtesy of Mother Nature), I question why I remain in Iowa at all. I told my husband that there are other places to live that, if not more exciting, are at least warmer. In turn he pulled out the “practical” card and pointed out that we both have Jobs. We have aging parents, a daughter in college and another in high school. He also reminded me that we own an acreage that we are in the process of remodeling (minus the Chipp & Joanna Gaines efficiency and friendly banter), two dogs and a handful of farm cats. I tend to selectively overlook the price of plane tickets and hotel rooms, and instead blame the barnyard menagerie for my inability to…

No, Iowa isn’t the potato state. Deep fried twinkies and bacon perhaps. Iowa can even claim notoriety through its quest for the perfect tenderloin. But Land of the Spuds, we are not. Any lifelong Iowegian has clarified (more than once) that Idaho has the potatoes, and the Buckeyes are from Ohio. Iowans continually have to justify why they live in a flat fly-over state known for pigs, corn and a life-size cow made of butter. Is it the smell of fresh silage that keeps us here? (Seriously, this is my favorite scent in the world!) Or our propensity to small-town parades? You know the ones…everyone from the winning t-ball team to the local hardware store to the reigning town “queen” has their own float, and kids sit curbside catching the candy thrown their way. The parades begin with the local American Legion and Boy Scouts carrying the flag, and end…