I rode home in a mountain of tissues.

Which might not have been so bad if they were new, soft, cushy tissues. They weren't. They were slightly damp and sticky, used tissues. I dislodged my mountain at every stop for food or gas or a stretch of the legs, but it took nearly no time at all for the mountain to grow again. Luckily the Ma and Kelly Belly mostly stayed in the front of the car while I and my mountain of tissues stayed in the back.

The Ma also made sure I was well drugged, particularly at night. When you share a hotel room with someone who is hacking and coughing and sneezing you only sleep as much as they do.

I think I picked something up from Uncle Sam. The poor man couldn't stop himself from sneezing. I don't blame him. He's old and frail and each time I see him he seems to have collapsed in on himself a little bit more. One of these days a strong Iowa wind will pick him up and gust him away.

Mountains of tissues aside, I always look forward to Iowa at Powwow time.

This is my cousin Jaron, the one in blue. He dances at every Powwow. He's really very good. Also, I think he looks fantastic in his dance garb.

I spent the days in Iowa working, but Kelly Belly went to the Powwow grounds in the morning and helped braid all the little cousin heads so they would be ready to dance.

I love watching the dances at Powwow while chomping down on hot, crisp, chewy frybread. More than the dances, I love the music. Groups of men sit around a single massive drum, each with their own drumstick. Together they beat on the drum and sing. It's beautiful.

The Ma has come home once again determined to make piles of frybread. Frybread is easy (flour, baking powder, salt, and water, and lard for frying), but it's difficult to get it just right. You need a good, hot fire. We don't have a fire pit. The Ma is contemplating squatting in the currently vacant garden and building a fire there. If I suddenly gain twenty pounds you'll know she's succeeded. I could eat piles of frybread for days and not grow sick of it.

It is good to be home. It is much better to be droopy and sore-nosed in your own bed than an indifferent, hotel bed. I've pulled a steak out of the freezer and intend to make about a gallon of beef barley soup with oodles of delicious vegetables. I'm also contemplating hot apple cider to soothe my achy throat.