Yesterday afternoon, I packed up the kids and flew to Kansas City, leaving Robbi and Billie Jean King to fend for themselves in the barn.

Alden and Kato are seasoned travelers.

As is Monkey, of course.

The reasons for our travels are twofold. On one hand, we’re here to visit with Grandpa John and Grandma Judy. On the other hand, Robbi plans to spend the next eight days designing the web site for our new children’s book press, a daunting task requiring heights of concentration impossible to achieve when Alden, Kato, and I are underfoot.

And then there’s Kansas City itself, land of opportunity, land of bounty, land of non-stop fun.

Land of fountains.

Land of escalators.

Land of goodness and light. A wholesome place, where people wave at one another when passing on the street and families make pudding together at night.

As for those of you back east, I issue the standard request: should you happen to see Robbi wandering around the streets of Chestertown in her nightshirt, leaning against walls and mumbling incoherently, please give her a cookie and point her toward the barn. The poor girl always forgets to eat when I’m gone. I’m doing my best to remind her, but for the most part, I’m far too busy eating ribs.

Did I mention that Kansas City is also the land of ribs?