Food

• Stone's 507 S. Third Ave., Marshalltown, 641/844-1887, brunch $12

Madison County (Tara Donne) [enlarge photo]

• Centro 1003 Locust St., Des Moines, 515/248-1780, pizza from $12

Activities

• Matchstick Marvels 319 Second St., Gladbrook, 641/473-2410, $3

Day 3: Des Moines to Centerville
Shawnda decides that we'll be wearing our T-shirts today. Every trip, Shawnda gets shirts made for us, sometimes in dubious taste. Mine says CORN DOG and hers says CORN MUFFIN.

We drive south to the National Balloon Museum. The memorabilia really make you want to ride in a balloon, or at least see one inflated. That said, we get a kick out of the photos of the two dogs who have acted as president of the Balloons Over Iowa club.

In adorable Pella, the Dutch influence has been cultivated into a tourist attraction: The town is home to a windmill, a tulip festival, and Dutch bakeries. I had read about the hot bologna sandwich at In't Velds Meat Market--five slices of what looks like kielbasa on a bun--and it's magnificent. We walk it off around the square. The day is a beautiful one, and bells from somewhere are ringing loudly.

Fairfield is a different story. There are signs of life--a gallery façade painted purple and royal blue and pink; Petit Paris, an "Organic French Restaurant"; a store called Health & Wholeness; a yarn shop selling natural and organic fibers. Some of this (and especially the Indian restaurants) is a result of the Maharishi University of Management, outside downtown. And yet except for Revelations, a welcoming café and bookstore, the town is empty, like a Mexican village during siesta.

We drive away the afternoon, admiring town squares and courthouses, playing the water-tower game. On Route 1--a pretty, hilly road--I briefly fantasize about owning a brick house that we pass. We run out of energy in Centerville. At the Double R Dairy Bar, we sit next to a fidgety Little Leaguer and eat fast food. When I check into the Super 8, I'm still carrying my malted shake. "You picked a good place to eat!" says the clerk.

The motel is next to a movie theater. There are only two other people watching The Break-Up, so I joke to Shawnda that we're on a double date--even though it's the worst date movie since Kramer vs. Kramer. But she's infatuated with the kid at the snack bar. "Small corn, butter," he barked to his assistant with the seriousness one devotes to one's first job.

Lodging