Once upon a time, I took a trip. The plan was to travel around the world and end up whenever my eyes opened.

That place ended up being Dodge City, Kansas...Wyatt Earp City. The year was 2012.

I doubt people dream of this place when their whisked away at night to dream land. But, this was it. This was the place of my dreams. The spot where my feet decided to plant for an hour or so. A place where the streets were paved with cobblestone, restaurants manned by the world, and abandoned beautiful buildings.

They were absolutely beautiful, the buildings, that is. They were red, blue, green and purple. ROY G. BIV must have fathered enumerable painters and muralists who chose the street names and colors. And, for a gal who liked the color red...oh red..oh how red abounded. I saw my life flash before me in a haze of understanding.

It made no sense...this town. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. It sat roughly 4 hours from Tulsa and 4 hours from the nearest city in Colorado (or maybe even the state line). There were shops and theaters and bars. The Italian restaurant was owned by a Hispanic Family. Yet, I saw no Mexican restaurants. The streets were all frontier. Cowboys lined door frames. Bulls grazed on leaves of stone. Auction blocks ran the town. Many streets had no names.

This was my kind of randomness. My town. It was me.

Maybe that's why I stopped randomly on my way to nowhere in my general tour around the world. Maybe I decided I needed a breath of fresh air. Ya..that was it. Fresh air.