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  • There are places a person doesn't think to go when she grew up on one coast and lived on the other and is what some real estate experts call a 'city dweller' (though they may not call her at all as her rent threshold is generally below caring about). These places include most of those between Manhattan and Los Angeles, save maybe Austin and Chicago. But last Spring took me to Kansas City, Missouri for two glorious months of acclamation into a city so much better and different than any I've ever known before or since.

    This picture was taken just a few days after the tornado tore through Joplin, Missouri, a town a hundred plus miles from Kansas City, but close enough to be close to the residents of KC's hearts. On this day, the sirens wailed in Kansas City and we were treated to our own tornado warning and relegation to the basement of the giant gallery I was working in. Always the party planner, the keeper of light moods and jovial chit chat, I ran across the street, camera in hand, through the empty street and only slightly ominous sky to our office where I picked up the giant canister of pretzels, what was left of some peanut butter, and a Diet Coke for me. Because should we be stuck in a basement all day, I thought, we should have a party-size package of pretzels naturally.

    You can take the girl out of the party. But you cannot take the will to start another party, in a basement, with only pretzels and peanut butter, and a slight fear of tornado, out of the girl.
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