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Beyond the Cheddar Curtain

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Wisconsin is like that girl you used to be friends with in high school –you really like her, but it’s probably best you two don’t hang out that often. She reminds you of the old times, the good times, and times you would rather forget….but the nostalgia turns to indulgence, and before you know it you are four episodes into a My So-Called Life marathon, wearing sweatpants, and eating a whole bag of cheese curds with a toothpick.

I’m so fancy.

Since Kiki was celebrating her birthday last week, and I was celebrating the birth of my self-employment, and neither one of us had taken a vacation in ages, we decided it was time for a girl’s trip. A long weekend across the cheddar curtain, to Door County Wisconcin, aka “The Riviera of the Midwest.”

I had never been to Door County, but I heard it was snazzy. I also heard there were equal opportunities for wine tasting, cheese tasting, and ice cream tasting. These people know how to prioritize! If there are any non-Midwesterners reading this and thinking the whole Wisconsin Dairy Farmer Thing is an act. Yeah, no. That’s all real. It’s all dairy, all the time. And it is glorious. We went to this cheese curd house (yes there is such a thing) and the lady was all “You guys are just in time! They just rolled in a fresh barrel! Still warm!” and Kiki and I were all “Don’t they need a refrigerator?” and she was all “You aren’t from around here now areyanow?”

Are-ya-now is totally my new favorite word.

The thing to do in rural Wisconsin is rent a cabin, and there are plenty to choose from for very reasonable prices, but we ended up at the Country House in Sister Bay. That’s the view from our room’s balcony. Water and trees and fountains and stuff. I’ll bet they do nice events here.


I would describe it as somewhere between an independent hotel and a B&B. We chose it because they are dog friendly (they even give you a doggy welcome basket upon arrival!) so we didn’t notice they had a No Kids Under 13 policy, which meant everyone staying there appeared to be 20-something or 60+. At one point after dinner I spotted four drunk grannies in the hot tub. SO RAD. Earlier that day, I had that whole hot tub to myself as I watched a rainstorm come down, floating belly-up, having the time of my life. I don’t know why more people don’t swim in the rain. I highly recommend it.

 Most of the beaches along Lake Michigan are pebbles and rocks. But what it lacks in sandy sprawling space, it makes up for in docks and piers. It’s pretty much like Dawson’s Creek, except Paceyand Joey are wearing a Green Bay Packers gear.

I told you it was like high school.

Over dinner one night I eavesdropped on some locals who were comparing their favorite thrift stores. The general conclusion was that the Goodwill in Green Bay was overpriced, but you stop there anyway because it’s around the corner from the St. Vincent DePaul, which was totally worth the trip. “I feel like I have to leave a trail of breadcrumbs just to find my way out, dontchaknow.”


No lie y’all: the St. Vincent DePaul in Greenbay might be the best thrift store I have ever been to. High volume, clean, well organized, and cheap. There are places this size in Chicago, but they charge twice as much and you have to bring wetnaps. This place has everything and then some.  Do they carry a lot of high-end goods or curated vintage collector items? Don’t know. I don’t look for that stuff. But it was a lot of fun to dig around and not come out feeling like I needed a hose down.  I came away with half a trunk load of stuff for under $20. If this place were local I would not be telling anyone about it because I’d want to keep it secret. But because it’s in Green Bay, and you really need to see Green Bay to understand the meaning of football devotion, I’ll spill the beans.

And here is a map. See how handy I am?

Sorry, Green Bay.

A meanass thunderstorm kept us from spending much time in Milwaukee, but we did get to stop by the art museum. It’s built to harken to Milwaukee’s famous bridges, but I think it harkens to a *pterodactyl. I don’t know. Your call.  All I know is Imma have to plan a second trip to follow up on the suggestions you guys offered up. It’ll be a good excuse to go back!

*Brownie points to me for spelling pterodactyl.

Hee Haw

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I spent a day in Nashville this weekend and I am feeling seriously outspangled. Seems like everyone in Nashville is either wildly talented and/or has great hair. Some of them yodel. Many of them wear rhinestones. It is glorious. 

Saturday night we to the Grand Ole Opry (check mark on the bucket list) and saw a series of wonderful performers, including a grown man playing a guitar bedazzled with sparkling alligators. Soon as I get back to Chicago I am singing up for lessons. I need that guitar. 

Look, I know a lot of people who take the ABC approach to music (Anything But Country) and that’s fine. To each his own. But I happen like country music quite a lot. And I like country music performers even more. Perhaps it is their friendly attitudes and approachable smiles. Perhaps it is the sincerity that comes with writing many of their own songs. Perhaps it is the hair. Perhaps it is the rhinestones.

Oh, who am I kidding?

To any of you ABC music people out there who resist the siren call of the steel guitar, I dare you to watch one of my favorite films, Rhinestone (1984). Starring Sylvester Stallone and Dolly Parton, this cinematic tour-de-force is sure to stir the soul and imprint an appreciation for country music. I’m serious. Listen closely and one can hear the crunch of Stallone’s New York machismo under the sparkling heft of Bob Mackie western wear. It is nothing short of magnificent.

Here, lets take a look.

Be sure to stick around to 1:50 when Dolly jumps in for a duet that rivals Islands in the Stream any day.

ce

Under the Sea

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Decided to take a break from the cold and spend the day hanging out at the aquarium last week, and can I just say, it was fantastic. Nothing like a few hours in a tropical environment to rejuvenate the soul. If it were not for the smell of sea lion poop, it might have been mistaken for a day at the spa.

There is an exhibit of jellyfish going on, which, apparently, I am not supposed to describe as jellyfish as they are not fish.They are Medusozoa. But it is safe to call them jellies. Or sea jellies. Some people call them medusas.

I used to have an English teacher we called Medusa because she had crazy snake hair and was really good at giving the stank eye. Had we known we were also calling her jellyfish I think we would have chosen another name. Like Hosebeast.

Oh wait…

Q: Do you know what a group of jellies is called?
A: A bloom, or a swarm, or a smack. Isn’t that neato? Just once in my life I want cause to yell across the starboard of a luxury yacht, Beware the jelly smack! And everyone will know exactly what I am talking about.

I had seen plenty of science shows on jellies on TV, but seeing them in person was truly amazing. They have no bones, no blood, no heart….but their every move looks not unlike something one might associate with the pumping of blood. Like heart beats. Like swarms of gelatinous, poisons heartbeats dressed in beautiful ballgowns.

If you have never seen jellies in person, I suggest you seek them out sometime soon. Or watch this video for a minute and study how they move. It’s nothing less than incredible.

Any school folks out there looking for a good jellyfish themed craft? Check out this exhibit display of bottle jellies floating from the ceiling. Cool beans.

Very similar to my bottle flowers. You can tell someone made these all white and uniform, but can’t you just imagine them in all colors and sizes hanging from the classroom ceiling? Nifty. Nifty. Nifty.

I think just about anyone with munchkins at home could benefit from a trip to the local aquarium. You never know who you will see…


Heads up: Elmo craft coming up this week. Stay tuned 🙂

 


Welcome Home Matt!

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A little more than three years ago, on a typical Tuesday afternoon, my friend and colleague Matt Kelly stopped in my office for our usual round of candy, gossip and youtubing 90 second scenes from R. Kelly’s critical masterpiece, Trapped in the Closet. 

 Only this time was different. Silent, he sat there in the chair with his eyes glazed over, staring at my bookshelf. After a moment, he shoved a piece of licorice in his mouth and announced, rather abruptly,

“I think I’m going to do something crazy.”
Matt was going to quit his job and travel from Alaska to Argentina.
On his bicycle.
Alone.
For nearly two years.
Whoa.
Fast forward three years later, to today. After riding for 22 months and 17,500 miles, Matt is back. I saw him on Monday and he looks so different. Yes, he is skinnier and tanner, but it’s more than that. It’s like he saw something. Something big.
Our local PBS station interviewed him yesterday, and as much as I love the show, you could tell Phil Ponce (the Interviewer-Slash-Kindly Latino Hotty) wanted to hear him complain about being mugged, or stranded, sleeping in the rain, or running out of food ….you know, something sensational. Something scary. Something made for TV.
But Matt didn’t bite.
He just told one story after another of total strangers taking him into their homes and communities, treating him as one of their own, and showing him the same kindness you or I might show a member of our own family. 
Look, I know am am bias here, and perhaps that isn’t a sensational story, but in my book, that’s pretty effing profound. Most days I turn on the news and see people suffering, starving…crazed dictators killing thousands in their wake…snookies showing their hooch to anyone who will watch. It’s not a pretty picture. It’s enough to make you second guess yourself and humanity in general.
But then there is Matt.
My friend, a guy who traveled to the furthest corners of the Earth, saw every sight and walk of life, only to return to report the simple truth: People are innately good. We are more alike than we are different. No barriers of race, language, or economics need stand in the way of connecting us to one another. The world is a huge place but it’s smaller than you ever imagined.
Whoa.

Click hereto watch Matt’s interview on WTTW.
Click here to read Matt’s blog.
Click here to see Matt’s amazing and extensive photographs from his trip.
Click here to see Matt’s amazing kite flown aerial photography from prior to his trip, that I thought he really should have taken on his trip but he said the kite took up too much room and I thought that was a poor excuse but now I see his bike loaded up like that gear and wonder, Damn, where was he going to fit the kite?

Oh well. Next time.

Welcome home Matt!

Before and After: The Greenbrier Chandlelier

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Couple years ago I spent my birthday at The Greenbrier hotel, and Lord, was it glorious. Let me tell you something: if you ever find yourself in the middle of the Smoky Allegheny Mountains with time to kill and money to burn, go to The Greenbreir.

We are talking about sweeping staircases, flowered drapes, checkered floors, stripes and color everywhere. And I loved every floral printed chintz minute of it!

I took a lot away from that trip, in particular, a fondness for green glass. The whole hotel comes in every color of the rainbow, but green glass is a common thread. Suppose Dorthy Draper designed it that way as a play on the name but I appreciate it just for the aesthetics too. Sometimes you just like the look of things and there is nothing wrong with that.

Shortly thereafter I came across this chandelier on clearance at Target –cute, but way too girly for me. A coat of spray paint, three ‘cufflets’ made from bottle flowers, and a dozen emerald crystal drops later, I had my very own Greenbrier chandelier! It’s probably a little too low budget and funky to hang anywhere so swanky, but I am awful fond of it 🙂

“Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina”

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I’m back. 

Spent some time down south with family and friends and food and babies and food and wedding hoopla of all varieties and eating food so good it would make your brains fall out. And oh, did I mention the food?

Makers of the Internet: you make it so easy to share pictures but why won’t you allow me to share stuff like smells and taste? Scratch and sniff screens or something? Taste-o-vision? You need to work on that, k? 

Maid of honor duties prevented me from taking many wedding photos but somehow I found time to capture about 900 photographs of my niece. That’s not sarcasm. Abigail is ten-months of crazy cuteness and is freakishly photogenic. And since I don’t see her nearly as often as I would like, well, the camera never left my side. If ya’ll lived in the neighborhood I would invite you over for gimlets and a 2 hour slide show of nothing but Abigail photos. You never had it so good!

This vacation wasn’t about sightseeing or tourist attractions. Just grocery stores and playgrounds and an occasional craft project. Lots of old, friendly, familiar things. Somehow seeing them through the eye of the camera makes me appreciate them a little bit more.

Ahem; the highlight reel:
(from left to right, top to bottom)

  • Went up to the mountains in search of acorns and came down with buckets of ash berries.
  • Laid in the grass and watched the clouds go by.
  • Renewed my profound appreciation for Sonic frozen treats (Dr. Pepper + Soft Serve Ice Cream = Oh Hell Yeah).
  • Watched the sun rise.
  • Met a chicken named Barbeque.
  • Took my niece to the playground then realized why my parents thought play dates were exhausting.
  • Went to six different stores in a relentless search for skinny brown ribbon.
  • Made a super cute rehearsal bouquet.
  • Witnessed the light of G-d shine through the clouds in such a way I was pretty sure the makers of biblical bookmarkers were going to pop out of the bushes any second.
  • Downloaded Elizabeth Mitchell’s new album Sunny Day to entertain Abigail, but now it’s a week later and I’m still listening to it.

  • Made Abigail a flamingo costume.
  • Got the chills when I saw Aunt Annie cradle Abigail like it was a living photograph of her cradling me at that same age.
  • Ate drool covered cheerios.
  • Gave my bouquet to a stranger in the hotel hallway. Dang, was that lady happy 🙂
  • Discovered that some ribbon just looks better off the spool. Thank you.
  • Nearly flashed the Groom’s Great Uncle while dancing the Hora in a strapless dress. Your welcome.
  • Saw my BFF marry a wonderful man.
  • Rented a car and drove for miles on country roads with the windows low and the radio high.
  • Experienced a slice of Double Fudge Coca Cola Cake at the Cracker Barrel. Listen good y’all: this thing is unreal.
  • Stopped to smell the roses. 

  • Picked Cotton.
  • Watched the willow tree I helped plant on the riverbank 25 years ago, finally grow tall and long enough to dip its branches in the water.
  • Made Abigail a Sir Mix-a-Lot costume (“Baby Got Back” is spelled out in rhinestones on her back. Bubba’s request.)
  • Welled up with tears seeing Abigail use her Grandads’s walker like jungle gym.
  • Danced in the freezer section.
  • Enjoyed a manicure and pedicure from a delightful man named Choo, who said something in Chinese to his colleague that I’m 99% positive translated to “Dude, where’d you put the hedge clippers?”
  • Picked more cotton and ruined my lovely new manicure. Sorry, Choo.
  • Ran my fingers through the wheat.
  • Helped my BFF get ready for her wedding day.
  • Met cat named Magda who drools when she purrs. Yup, it’s awesome.
  • Watched Abigail flash a “Talk to the hand” gesture. The aviator glasses make it easy to think she really meant it, too.
  • Wondered why I waited so long to make homemade Chex mix. Holy celery salt, I have been missing a good thing!
  • Removed a chicken-nugget size ball of hair and earwax from Ol’Rusty Jr.’s neck. If I ever get as old as Ol’Rusty, I sure hope someone checks my neck for chicken nuggets.
  • Asked a horrified grocery store clerk “Where can I buy penguin?”
  • Lived high on the hog for the night at the Carolina Inn. If you are ever in Chapel Hill, GO THERE. The welcome cookie alone is worth the trip.
  • Ate an igloo shaped groom’s cake.
  • Printed, folded, assembled and tied bows for 160 wedding programs. Then untied, unfolded, reassembled, refolded, and retied 160 wedding programs, when I realized I did it wrong the first time.
  • Ate fried chicken.
  • Ate boiled chicken.
  • Ate barbeque chicken (and no, it wasn’t the chicken named Barbeque).