I just got back from Kansas, and I just can’t say enough nice things about my trip to the Garden State.

I didn’t get a chance to visit many tourist attractions, though. I missed my opportunity to see the world’s largest hand-dug well in Greensburg (I can just hear the Little Missuss saying, “Get closer so I can take a picture. No, closer! Closer!”)

I also ran out of time and didn’t get over to Coffeyville to visit the graves of the Dalton Gang, or to see if the place still had an open Starbucks. Even worse, I didn’t visit Cawker City and the home of the world’s largest ball of twine.

And the Little Missuss wouldn’t let me go to Prairie Dog Town to see its 8,000-pound prairie dog and its six-legged steer; she made me stick around for her family reunion and meet the dozens of cousins who came over from Topeka, Kansas City and other exotic locales.

True story alert: Like many families in the heartland, all of the relatives of my Little Missuss were named Ed, or they got their names from some kind of weather event. There was Stormy. Sunny.

I thought that was a bit strange until I picked up a local paper and saw the names of the local commissioners. I sure wish we had somebody here on the board of commissioners named “Boog.”

Another thing I couldn’t help but notice were all the toll highways.

I learned a few things about toll highways while I was in Kansas.

Surprisingly, just because you pay money to drive on a particular stretch of highway, that doesn’t mean you get to pick your own speed limit. I hope the great state of Kansas corrects this oversight sometime in the immediate future.

There’s another problem with pay-as-you-go roads. Paying a toll to travel down the highway may create the impression with drivers that there is actually something to see, or do, down the road. Several times in Kansas, I found this to not be the case.

Really, if you have to pay $1.15 to drive 17 miles along the highway, you should at least get to see something interesting alongside the road. A chasm would be nice. Or a tree with a crazy, crooked trunk.

Still, I can’t say enough great things about Kansas, even though I think I put on a few extra pounds during my visit.

It’s hard to eat right when you’re on vacation. I tried. Didn’t have much luck.

When we ate at a BBQ rib joint in Lawrence, the waitress told me I could have a side of pulled pork with my ribs, or curly fries or fritters.

I asked her if she had anything that was a bit more healthy.

“Don’t you have something green on the menu?” I asked.

“Oh, sure, hon, I know where you’re coming from,” she said. “I’ll put a sliced pickle on your plate.”

Next time: A free pass.