When I get overwhelmed by the overbearing Americanness of Iowa I can escape to places like this. For me, there is honestly nothing quite so refreshing as sitting in a strange place listening to conversations in languages I can’t even name as I devour something hearty and delicious. That food made me feel so good. Maybe I should marry an Indian guy who’s a chef. That is probably one of the better ideas I’ve ever had. Please send in your applications for my hand in marriage, gentlemen. Cheers. 

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Spontaneous Chicago: Part 1 – Peasants, Ghetto, and Pharaohs

I don’t have many flaws that I will admit to. I’m a Leo and we don’t do that. But, I will tell you that I have a terrible problem with […]

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