Really, I frequently think about what massive a country we live in and how little I know about what it all is. Flying over places like Nebraska and Kansas is terrifying. Huge crop circles. All corn. So huge there’s no doubt in my mind they have something to do with aliens. I had the pleasure of taking a domestic trip recently.

I stayed with a friend. Her family had ordered a half beef from Nebraska, which is a great deal of red meat. One particular night, we had a sirloin. A beef sirloin that had the elegance and tenderness of a filet. It was incredible.

My destination was western Colorado. Grand Junction. So many horses just hanging out in people’s backyards. None rideable. Open space. Lots of it. And while this may be liberating to so many and while I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, I realized that not living in a congested, urban area could kill me. The open space was suffocating. I kept thinking about what would happen to me if someone came up out of nowhere, shot me and left. No one would know for days. I had spotty service. The only way my remains might be discovered is months from the fact, when someone noticed that a patch of land was yielding uncharacteristically verdant grass. The result of my decomposing tissue fertilizing the ground.

The great part was that I saw lizards, falcons, horses, hummingbirds, cows, sheep, bear carcass, deer carcass, a variety of wildcat hides, a siamese cat, a plethora of beautiful monarch butterflies and, one day during dinner, a mallard couple flew into my friends backyard and walked around ten feet away from us. For about twenty minutes. It was neat. And startling. Their public stroll was far too casual in comparison with the normal animal baseline behavior I’ve been assimilated to. It was such a quiet, graceful moment and they knew they were safe. Because what spiritual being could disrupt such a gift? They were almost daring me to throw my discarded olive pits at them. They knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t, obviously.

Mountains: I used to think that people who went on and on about mountains were annoyingly granola. Now I understand.

1. It’s cool.
2. It looks like nothing else in the city.
3. It’s beautiful.
4. Imagining the force and weight of that giant landmass is impossibly challenging.
5. Being that high up sort of makes you feel inebriated or, at least, that it would be irresponsible to handle heavy machinery. Or a cellular telephone. Which I fumbled with a little bit.
6. It’s strange how horrifically mediocre the pictures of the mountains came out. Like a Bermuda triangle of BEAUTY– I didn’t know where it went. On camera, dull. Off camera, beautiful. Mountains aren’t photogenic it seems.

I’d like to try and see more of our country’s bountiful natural wonders. Next up: the Redwood forests, the Grand Canyon, the waves of Hawaii, that funny place where you can extend each limb and be in four states at once, glaciers of Alaska, Mount Rushmore and any horse riding place. I’m sure there are more impressive things out there but if I experience the aforementioned, then that’s a pretty good run.

What I will travel great distances for again is another steak like that Nebraska steak. I’ll dream of that for years. Years. I think I wish I never had it. Every piece of steak I’ve had so far since this trip has been a huge letdown.

I now feel the true depth of Flowers for Algernon.