Two years ago I gave myself a challenge “Learn to love this stupid state.”
I was ready to just settle for like. Or even complacent regard.
I tried to take pretty pictures of Indiana. The barns, the corn the poor excuses for sunsets.
All the while grumbling to myself. “Stupid state, grow up and get some terrain or something.”
I even started a flickr photo set titled “Around Indianapolis” and just below it says “One of my goals is to fall in love with this city through my lens.”
That photo set currently holds 449 pictures. 449 pictures taken in Indianapolis of everything from fried Pepsi to Barack Obama’s visit before the election. Pictures from the track of the Indy 500 share the same space as local WWII vets both alive and deceased.
I even wore a Colts hat and shirt (on purpose) in Nashville around a bunch of Saints fans (including Harry Connick Jr.) the night before the Superbowl.
(Indy girls represent.)
I fell in love with Indiana.
And I never even saw it coming.
(I heart Indiana necklace from Tru.che.(For the record? At this moment there’s no I heart Utah necklaces in her shop. So there.))