Ruby was clearly annoyed that we were waiting at the luggage claim so far away from where the luggage came out of the wall. She didn’t say anything — it was about midnight when we got to the Madison, Wisconsin airport and we were both tired — she just trudged over to the start of the luggage belt on her own. Serendipitously, her pink luggage (adorned with CodePen stickers) was the first to emerge, and she huffed it right off the belt herself, righted it, yanked out the handle, and started walking out of the airport. She’s 5. Well done, girl, you’re a little version of your mother for sure.
It was striking waking up at my mom and stepdad’s house in Verona to their giant canopy of a backyard. SO GREEN. Despite it being a drought there, with some 6 weeks of no rain, it didn’t seem to affect the greenness. Or maybe it just felt that way coming from the High Desert. It didn’t seem to stunt the “knee high by the 4th of July” corn.
Kelsey and Aaron’s had a *brand new pool* at their home in Oconomowoc, which was a real highlight. I, too, will be keeping my pool at 88°, should we ever acquire one. I think I’m over the “just get in, it’s nice once you get used to it” thing. That’s some Stockholm Syndrome shit, people. You’re the *victim* here.
There was an honest-to-god diving board. Like from the 80’s. I thought those things went the way of lawn darts. It’s the kind where you bounce a little at the end and do cool kid tricks like catch footballs mid-air and do cartwheels. And that gives at least one person an intermediate head injury. I always thought cars should have a little shield that would come down over the license plate that you can deploy with a button click from the dashboard. So if you’re about to do something blatantly illegal, like drive through a video toll, you just press that button first. Now I think diving boards should have this. Like when the insurance adjustor comes over, you press the button and the diving board retracts into the ground and is replaced by an old cement block with a dandelion growing out of a crack. No diving board here, hoss.
It was Ruby’s first diving board experience, which was riddled with cuteness all the way from the “too scared to try it” to “for the love of god, slow down child” phases. She also learned to swim all the way to the bottom of the deep end (all pools should have a “deep end”) and fetch a ring. I would never have guessed she could pull that off at 5, but dangit, if you give that kid a challenge, she will meet it.
Another day we went to the zoo. Of the many rather excellent exhibits at the ol’ Henry Vilas is the giraffes. Giraffes are fuckin’ huge. Yet, despite their insane neck length, they can’t just bend their neck down and drink water as you’d think. They have to spread their legs out super wide, making them shorter, so they can reach. Look it up; it’s weird. Ruby does a cute mimic of it. It makes me stop believing in evolution for a minute, though. Like how is that the most efficient thing? Surely some giraffe with a slightly longer neck would have won out? Or shorter legs?? Elephants have a straw — that’s the clear winner here.
Dad paid for all the kids to do the carousel. There were 82 different animals to choose from and a bench for old people to sit on. Ruby chose the bench. Then they did the little train. There are three cars and each kid sat in a different car alone. “No social issues in this family”, Dad said.
Ruby is just old enough to be starting to engage with the animal exhibits a bit, which is nice. I expect many future zoo visits, wherever we happen to be. A great thing about Madison’s though is that it’s totally free. No lines, no tickets, you just waltz in there. Strong family history there for me, too. Grandpa Coyier worked with the monkeys forever and has a cool prominent plaque there we always visit. And Grandpa Howe helped install the iconic multi-spigot water fountain.
This whole trip was inspired by a wedding.
Miranda’s old friend Kate Gardiner was getting married to a lovely fella named Michael. I’ve met Kate a few times myself, including once in Lake Geneva, where her family has a farm. Miranda and I witnessed a “Sheep Dog Trial” there, which is a fascinating affair where humans blow whistles at dogs in order to get the dog to manipulate sheep into doing things the sheep probably wouldn’t otherwise do. On the whistle, *Wheet-Wheeeo*, I’m told, means to move around the sheep clockwise, whereas *Wheet-Wheeo-Wheet-Wheet* means to move away from the sheep. If I whistled at our dog Leelou, she would just cock her head funny and lay back down.
The sheepdogs are able to perform feats like: run out to a hill, shepherd all the sheep back in, separate a few, put them into a special area, and herd the rest into a ring (I probably have that a little wrong but it’s like that). It’s extremely impressive. If you think dolphins are smart check out these sheep dogs. I can only assume they do sudoku puzzles and read Kant in their downtime.
There were no sheepdog trials at the wedding, though, unless you count herding humans by golf cart to a lovely ceremony on what I believe is the same hill the dogs fetch the sheep from. Instead, we were treated to an amazing set of parties. Friday night was at a spot in town called The Baker House, which, believe it or not, I worked at in college for something like 2 or 3 days, “tending bar”. I figured the money would be good because, you know, Lake Geneva is full of rich Illinois people that tip $6 on a bottle of Stella. I just didn’t fit in, as I recall, to the surprise of no one.
The wedding day and post-wedding-day brunch were out at the farm. Everything was perfect, right down to the little white flags (pennants?) flying on top of the big tent. All tents of sufficient size should have pennants. I especially enjoyed all the live music.
We stayed at the Geneva Inn, which was very beautiful, and the rooms were spacious and lovely.
We got to spend time with our Miami BFF Rebekah Monson as well as Miranda’s great-old friend Natalie and her partner Helms. We made a good crew. Getting dressed up for fancy events is right in Miranda’s wheelhouse. She looked wonderful each day and helped me get my look in-line.
The most memorable breakfast was at a spot called Great Eggs. They take four customers at a time and line you up in front of a well-trained high school student employee who floods a flat-top grill with egg mix. Then they start hammering you with questions. If you thought Subway asked a lot of questions about a turkey sandwich, you’re not ready for Great Eggs. Meat? What meat? Do you want peppers? Cheese? Which type of hot sauce? Onion? In the end, you pick the flavor of tortilla. They call these things “wraps” almost like they are intentionally avoiding being placed in the breakfast burrito category. I do not understand this, but still, it’s a good “wrap”.
On the drive home, we stopped in Whitewater, my old college town, for some beers at The Brass Rail, where I worked for (counts fingers) too long. It’s 95% exactly the same, which was mostly comforting.