Thrift+Patience=death

Not too far away from the geographic center of the contiguous 48 states is the world's largest ball of twine. The title of this post is a play on the sign outside the ball of twine, which is Thrift+Patience=Success. I was informed by my friend Lisa that the man who constructed this ball of twine died from emphysema from the fibers he inhaled while putting it together. The poor man died constructing a ball of twine. Sure, it is the largest ball of twine, but, as Lizzie evilly suggested, we could outsource the production of an EVEN BIGGER ball of twine, which change Cawker City's claim to fame to "Second Largest Ball of Twine in the World" and then poor Frank Stoeber would have died in vain. Cawker City doesn't have much else going for it. It's "Ball of Twine inn" (Thank goodness we're staying with Erin's folks, or Lizzie and I would've been like "ha ha let's stay there, wouldn't that be fun?" and the ball of twine inn was more depressing than the shack'n'up inn from Mississippi--we would've wanted to die) "Ball of twine commerce center" "Ball of Twine antique shop," Etc, etc. Without the ball of twine, poor Cawker City would probably disappear from the map.

Also, fun fact, the ball of twine STINKS. Erin mentioned that it stunk before we left, but it was really something we had to experience before fully appreciating it. Ugh. Frank, how did you not wear a gas mask during its construction? I stopped construction on my own string ball, because if I'm going to blow out my lungs, it's going to be from singing loudly in the car on our road trips. (That is Lizzie's favorite part of our trips, rest assured.)