Hysterical

Last night I went over to my cousin Wendy's house for a salon. Not a place where you go to get your hair done, but this other type of salon. I try to say the word confidently, but I have no idea what a salon is supposed to be- I just knew that everyone there would probably be more sophisticated than I am. But I gathered up two good pals and we were salon-bound. This was a gathering to celebrate the publishing of a book by a friend of Wendy's. I have met this woman a time or two and she is funny in that great kind of funny way. She doesn't seem to be cracking jokes on purpose, in fact she doesn't seem to be cracking jokes at all. The stuff that comes out of her mouth is just always chuckle-worthy. Apparently she is an English Prof and used her sabbatical to research current American humor. And then she took what she had learned and wrote a memoir. So after a bit of general salon-ing we gathered in the living room, Sara took a seat on a stool up front and she commenced to read a chapter from her book. At first I chuckled here and there, and then the woman next to me started laughing so hard that I couldn't help but laugh at/with her. It got to the point where I even wiped a tear or two. And then it ended and we clapped and she dove into a different little tale. Almost right away this one hit my funny bone and set me off down the trail of good hard laughter. About ten minutes into it I was firmly out of control. Laughing, weeping, sniffling, snorting, sweating. There was one point where I felt a bit of panic creeping in. I was so thoroughly out of control with laughter that I was sure that one of my friends was going to have to give me a swift slap to the face to bring me back to my senses. Or maybe even take me out back and shoot me. Really. I didn't see how I was going to regain control. But then the tale was over. We clapped. I wiped my eyes and let out an occasional last guffaw or chortle, but eventually was able to settle back down to talk quietly with my friends while chuckling continued to break out around the room. I found that my cheek muscles hurt. It was fabulous. Sara Ford is the name. The book is on a small scale release, but can be found at Amazon.com. It's titled "Apparently I Know Who Satan Is." I can't guarantee that it will have the same effect on you, but why not risk it?

Secrets

The other day my neighbor stopped me in the street as I was peeling out, already late for work. But Michelle had a tip and wanted to share it. Having Michelle for a neighbor is like having a concierge for your street. She knows what is happening, where it's happening, and who should be there. But it's not about hipness or a cool factor or something like that- her tips are for good clean family fun. And this one was one she promised I would love. It was about an organic farm that makes pizzas out of ingredients grown on the property. But only on Tuesday nights. And only pizzas. You have to bring your own chairs, blankets, cups, drinks, snacks- everything but the pizzas. And you have to carry out your trash. Oh, plus it's 1.5 hours away. I admit, the pizza did sound delicious. But it also sounded like a lot of work. She was making the pilgrimage the next day and I agreed to round up my troops and join her. But then we got rained out and I put it on the back burner, thinking that it sounded great, but too much trouble.

But the very next week we went. And I can't tell you where it is because then I would have to kill you. It's such a fabulous experience that I want to share it, but I don't want it to get to be any more discovered than it is. This last Tuesday was just one of those fabulous summer days that demands that you eat outside. So we gave a last minute call to some friends who seemed the most likely to agree to a last minute car trip to an unknown destination. And they were in. The drive was lovely- raptors soaring, corn fields waving, deer prancing- hopefully that is not enough detail to give away the whereabouts. Then we turned off the highway and onto little backroads. After a few miles with NO sign of any pizza parlor in sight- we were clearly headed away from any sign of civilization (the last town we passed through was population 82) and into the cornfields to meet an unspecified doom. But then we turned one more corner and suddenly there were parked cars along both sides of a dirt road. And people getting out with picnic supplies. We followed suit, a little uncertainly. We trekked down the road a bit, and then all of the sudden you hear this hubbub. A true hubbub. Murmurs, laughter, glasses tinkling, and you come around this tree and in this grassy shady yard are hundreds of people all decked out in various levels of picnic-ness. The setups ran the gamut from the basic blanket to tables with tablecloths, cloth napkins in napkin rings, goblets, candelabras...everything! And every last person was smiling. Even those still waiting for pizzas. And the wait is considerable, but it passed in the blink of an eye. We wandered the grounds, fed the goats, watched people play lawn games, and took notes for what we were going to bring next time. We knew there would be a next time even before we tasted the stone oven fired pizzas. That definitely sealed the deal. Jon did point out that after waiting two hours for ours to be delivered, we might have exclaimed over cooked cardboard, but these lovely pies were the real deal. I tell you that I had a silly smile plastered to my face the whole time we were there, it was all just so fabulous. It was like there was this invisible dome over these acres out in the middle of nowhere that encased this perfectly happy bubble of loveliness. Which is why I really probably have to tell you where it is- this kind of treat needs to be shared, and even if you do decide to go and make my next wait for a pizza longer, I think I'm ok with that- because I have taken notes and I now know to bring snacks and lots of them. Plus a few bottles of wine. And I do think there might be no nicer place to kick back and wait for dinner. So I'll tell you this--it's....it's....it's somewhere in Wisconsin. Enjoy.

Beefy

I journeyed up to the Northwest Y the other day to swim in their lovely outdoor pool. And then I left half of my swimsuit in the lockerroom. The bottom half. I hate losing things.
Anyway- today the boys and I were driving to the library to see a supposed 'comedy juggler' ( for the record- he was NO Bill the Juggler...not even close.) and I suggested to the boys that maybe later we should go to the Highland Pool for a swim since it was getting nice out. Here's their conversation:
Theo: But Mom doesn't have a bottom half of a suit!!
Eli: She has a different one- or we could make her a bottom out of some cloths.
Theo: Yeah! Like bandanas. (They do have many uses afterall).
Eli: Theo! Would you REALLY want to use your bandana again after it has been on Mom's butt?
Theo: Ohh...well, other cloths.
Eli: But they are not waterproof- we'd have to figure out how to make them water proof...
Theo: We could put a bag around them or something.
Eli: Welllllll.....it would have to be a really big bag. Mom does have pretty beefy legs.

BEEFY LEGS??? I let them know that I was feeling a bit of rage at that comment. And now Jon just called and said he had been at the Y and retrieved my poor lost swimsuit. So now I don't need their stupid cloths and beefy leg bags- but I am taking them to the pool and holding them underwater until they take that back!!

New Shoes

Theo can be a little tough on a pair of shoes. Give Theo several months in a pair of Eli's old hand-me-downs, add 4 days on a river and that is a recipe for shoe blow-out of major proportions. So the kid needs a new pair. We looked real quickly at Famous Footwear but the guady factor of the kids shoes sent me into a major fit of decision paralysis. Today Theo and I made a quick swing through Target and we found a nice pair of gray 'running' shoes as Theo calls them- it was very important to him to get running shoes. The only problem was that they had shoelaces. Theo hasn't had a pair of shoes that require actual tying since....ever. But he thought they looked fast, and I thought the price and guady factor were both quite low so we bought them. Put them on in the parking lot. I tied them of course, with a promise of a lesson once we got home. When I pulled up in front of the house Theo popped out, did a few funny little stretches (he also pulls these stretches out during the middle of soccer games- apparently last night while he was stretching out his hams mid game someone kicked the ball, it bounced off Theo's knee and into the goal- that's where stretching will get you!) and then took off around the house as fast as he could. As he sprinted back to me at the car he caught his breath, said "And that was just a jog" and then bent down to dust off the new runners.

For the record, he has quickly become a shoe tying champ. I now feel confident that I will be able to send him off to college someday.

Oh- and there were no bugs!

That might be the greatest advantage the Namekagon had- atleast this time around. There were virtually no bugs. Of course a deerfly or horsefly would come by every now or then to check us out, but I would kill it dramatically and call out "And let that be a lesson to your brothers and sisters!!!" and that would be the end of that. There was the report of one mosquito one evening in Sam and Becky's tent. And really, it does only take one mosquito in the tent to drive you a little wild- but with that one pesky critter cooped up in their tent, we were doing fine. Ticks were spotted here and there, but never with their heads buried in our flesh. Bugs can ruin my attitude pretty quickly- so we were all lucky to be spared the fate of an ornery Gretchen.

Canoe Tripping

It has been a long long time since I have packed everything I needed for a few days and pushed off in a canoe. Too long. Getting back out there has whet my whistle for more. But I am definitely a river gal. I'll do the Boundary Waters because you can't say no to that- but the Namekagon has many attributes that should not be overlooked- the first and foremost being a rip roaring current. When your bowsmen are in the single digits age-wise and more prone to resting their paddles on their knees while they study the stunning dragonfly than giving you a little muscle power- currents keep you moving. The Nam is moving along so quickly that when the boys jumped ship to float alongside they were whisked along at such a clip that it elicited whoops and hollers that were 45% glee/55% panic.

I know that the BWCA has crystal clear waters, but so does the Nam. During our two sunny days I could not pull my eyes from watching the river bottom float by- I was enraptured with the sight of the mighty sturgeon that would coast by- prehistoric in appearance and beyond belief in size. I promised myself that if I saw one while the boys were in swimming I would not say anything until they were back in the canoe. But then a fish glided by right below Eli and I swear that they were precisely the same length and I bellowed "Oh!!!!! Look!!!!! There's a sturgeon as big as Eli!!!! Right BELOW him!!!!" Eli kicked it into high gear downstream while the sturgeon, unruffled, continued up the river. To Eli's credit, he remained in the water for atleast another hour. I would have leaped into the canoe in a single bound. Eagles often soared overhead and we saw some amazingly large turtles. Sure they were snappers. They looked like they could have snapped a child's leg right off. Luckily, despite much time in the river instead of on it, none of the boys came to any harm.

We started off with two days of the best weather you could hope for- sunny skies, light winds, warmth that got you in the river, but didn't roast you when you were in the canoe. After two days of this we were hit by rain. We were lucky enough to get everything packed up before the first drops, but the second we got in the canoes it started to drizzle. This turned in to an all day rain. After a drizzly lunch on the river bank I watched Eli climb back into the duffer's seat. He, who does not like even one grain of sand in his shoes, had done a fabulous job of wearing wet, sandy shoes each day in the canoe. But I saw his distaste as he looked down into the gritty sandy wet bottom and contemplated sitting in it. As we paddled away I saw him shivering and asked, "Eli- are you doing ok? Are you cold?" His answer, delivered matter-of-factly: "Mom, my present state leaves MUCH to be desired." I had a hearty laugh- of relief as much as humor. This rain had been getting me down and I worried if it was going to ruin the trip for the boys. But no, they seemed to be getting through it just fine- granted, there was much to be desired- but they were not complaining. We drifted downstream through the pouring rain trying to solve two-minute mysteries and before we got to the end of the second one the sun was trying to peep through. Later we did have to weather two pretty stunning storms, but by then we were in our nice little tent reading Huck Finn and delighting in being in out of the rain- even if our protection was only whisper thin- it was enough.

Heading out

We are on the eve of a departure for a little trip down the Namekagon with Becky D and her son Sam. Jon is not joining us. It's not that he wasn't invited, exactly....but it was pitched as a mother/son outing and if he wanted to come along he was free to do so. For some reason he has decided to sit out. He is in the throes of training for a half Ironman (he prefers to call it a 70.3 and when you are moving your body under your own power for 70.3 miles in one outing, then I see why you wouldn't want it called a HALF anything) and sitting on his rear in a tin canoe soaking up the rays for four days is probably not a highly rated training regimen.

Anyway- the boys and I have been gathering up our goods for the last few days and at one point I introduced them to the single most important piece of canoe tripping equipment- the bandana. When they gave me skeptical looks I listed off a few uses. They came around. Wanted one for their very own. Now. So the next time we were out and about we found some and they grabbed one each. They brought them home and compared them to my old ones and I am happy to report, found that their new stiff ones did not measure up...yet. I told them that of course a good bandana had to be broken in, so they honestly spent the next several hours wetting them down, wringing them out, running around the house holding them aloft to dry them....over and over and over again. I admired their dedication. They are starting to get a little supple. The bandanas- not the boys. There is more work to be done and they are eager to do it. I am sure they will come back from our escapade with true canoer's bandanas- and they will deserve them. Becky and I are bringing two canoes so these guys are going to have to spend a lot of time in the bow getting us to where we need to be. Wish us luck!