Nebraska Ho!

Just kidding, Erin, you're not from Nebraska. We woke up pretty late Thursday, having needed to sleep off the adrenaline from the previous day's endeavors. After some much needed grooming, we went to the Phillipsburg Chamber of Commerce, where Erin's Dad bought us some duck racing slips (duck racing is on Saturday. Cannot wait.) and some fabulous rodeo t-shirts. Seriously he is too nice. I am going to move in here. His kindness shall be rewarded with unwanted house guests. Then Erin, Lizzie and I headed north to Nebraska.

(Okay guys, don't tell Erin I told you, but her sense of direction is just as bad as mine and Lizzie's, and that is saying something.)

Our destination was Little Mexico, a delicious restaurant in Republican City (where I don't think I'm allowed) on a lake. We made it into Nebraska, and stopped at a prairie dog town (see picture, above) which was pretty adorable, and then continued to Rep city. Erin told us that she didn't quite remember quite where the restaurant was, but that we'd figure it out. Lizzie, employing a literary device known as "foreshadowing," said, "That's okay--this is what our trips are like--we usually wander around for hours to get to a destination that ends up being closed anyway."

And that's what happened. We wandered around this little city of 150 for an hour, trying to employ google maps to help us, and we just ended up on a series of dirt roads that probably did nothing for our Nissan Versa. (Erin calls it our "wind up toy"). We finally ended up at a camp ground, whereupon Erin asked for directions. We got there and the place was closed. As they say in Mexico, "Let's go to Bugbee's back in Alma." We drove back south to Alma, Nebraska, and ate at this adorable diner. I had a grilled ham and cheese and they used real ham in the sandwich--not deli meat. And then there was pie.