Cornfield, cornfield, soybean field, cornfield. Yup, you guessed it – we’re in the Midwest. Land flat as a pancake and roads straight as a pole. Great for testing visibility, not so great for sneaking up on enemies.
So what does one do while counting cornfields? Why, eat, of course. Dream about what to eat, plan around what is actually available for eating, prepare area for eating, consume procured foods voraciously, clean up any traces of having eaten, and repeat.
Here is a very limited portion of what my stomach has been busily processing within the past 24 hours or so:
– several squares of perfectly bite-sized Swiss milk chocolate hazelnut delights
– countless handfuls of Sun Chips out of an annoyingly noisy 100% compostable bag
– sunflower seeds, both shelled and unshelled, salted and unsalted
– prunes, an attempt to proactively ward off the imminent travel constipation
– Fazoli breadsticks, fresh from the oven
– one slice of white pie
– biscuits and gravy, along with a thorough description of the many varieties of fat that went into the making of said gravy
– several varieties of Lays potato chips, often consumed simultaneously
– a bigger slice of white pie
– iced hazelnut latte, mostly ice and hazelnut syrup
– iced tea lemonade – shaken, not stirred
Ah, how I delight in spotting those magical blue road signs, one after another, proclaiming the endless possibilities for palate stimulation and digestive exercise. Forget the freshman fifteen. Roadtrip fifteen, here I come!