Friday morning I got up early and drove the three hours from Bentonville to Kansas City. The Nelson Atkins is a spectacular museum, and I'd been wanting to get back the last couple of years. It feels like one of those grand European museums with a spectacular collection housed in a palace built expressly for art. Kansas City was lucky enough to get two enormous bequests, and the trustees agreed to work together, right as the rest of the world was selling off art to try to survive the Great Depression. I had no idea such a museum existed within a day's drive of me until I stumbled into it a few years ago on an unrelated road trip. Magnificent is not too grand a word to describe it. It's the kind of place that feeds my soul.

It also happens to be nestled in a lovely parkway system in an old neighborhood that reminds me of Memphis. I found a place to stay where again I could park the car and just navigate by foot around the area, my favorite way to travel. I spent a lot of the day moving slowly through the collection, but I had