It's okay blog readers....I was just talking to the cornfield

If you build it, he will come.

What exactly I have to build to make my soulmate come, I have positively no clue.

I really hope it's not a baseball field. I never mastered the art of cutting the grass in our backyard into the shape of a baseball diamond like my brother did. I think I'd do much better with an ark or something.

Then again I have an inexplicable fear of getting a sliver.

Can I build a lego house instead?

By far, the greatest tragedy of my childhood was when my brother taped over my copy of "Dumbo" with "Field of Dreams."

Obviously since I'm still talking about it some however many years later, I'm still quite scarred by the event. But I'm beginning to think that perhaps a little divine intervention played a part in what undoubtedly made this formerly mulletized girl cry and cry and cry...



This weekend I'm taking my soulmate search on the road, abandoning the constraints of the spacebar on my laptop that sticks and going to....

Iowa. Specifically Dyersville. Home of the one and only Field of Dreams.

Not to mention a lot lot lot LOT of Republicans.

Before you get me to a nunnery because you think I've officially lost it and am taking my dating directives from something my big brother did when I was four, fear not. My best friend is from Dyersville so it all works out just peachy. A weekend out of the city and amongst the Dyersville cowboys...err, that doesn't sound right....farmers? may be just want the dating doctor ordered.

And perhaps "The Voice" will have a little Kevin Costner-esque dating wisdom to impart on me while I'm there. Although hopefully not something as obscure as, "If you build it, he will come."

I certainly hope The Voice is smart enough to know that I don't build things.