A shadow-self self-portrait portrait in the Geographical... well you can read the sign. I was in Minot, North Dakota for work again, and I had some extra time so I drove an hour East to Rugby. The drive was monotonous. I can't believe people live out there. It's a vast cornfield of nothing. Nothing and haybales.
Nothing, haybales, and toe-jam. They seem to be proud of that. This is the local diner where I ate lunch (without the side of jam, thank you no) and which has the monument to The Center of it All in their parking lot. The obelisk is abutted by the flags of the U.S., Canada and Mexico. And wagon wheels.
Not much going on in the center of it all, really. And actually, the Geographical center of a continent is rather hard to pinpoint, and there is no official center. Rugby just happens to be within the 16-mile radius of the area where the center may actually reside. It's sort of unofficially accepted to be the center by the U.S. Geological Survey, and that poor diner needed some business. Close enough for government work, literally. Ah-merica.
So yeah, not the most fascinating of places I've been to. It's been a slow month. But I do have a trip to Arizona coming up, and then we're off for a honeymoon in the lands of our ancestors, culminating in a festive Christmas holiday of whips and gluhwein. So you'll be seeing me there.
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