Vacation Wrapup

Although it will be hard to top Grant trying to belch the alphabet during a stage production, I thought I'd post a quick wrapup of the final day of our Wisconsin vacation. I spent today doing all those things you do after a week away -- getting the mail at the post office, an oil change on Big Whitey, etc. I knew I was home when I saw a group of employees at the local quicky lube place huddled around a car watching the driver trying to frantically start the engine to get it out of the bay for Big Whitey's entrance. One of the employees finally approached me and informed me that "he's got one of them breathalizer starters and he cain't get it started." It was 7:30am. Welcome to Brownsburg.

On Friday, we departed Egg Harbor around 9am and headed toward Green Bay. One of the follies I frequently make during family vacations is not finding a place to eat breakfast soon enough. I always tell Erin that "we'll find a place in a few miles" which usually turns into a few counties or a few states. Two hours without coffee in the morning, and Erin turns violent. Friday was no exception to this rule, except that I now had the twin cannons of Erin and the mother-in-law aimed squarely at my sloped forehead.

We exited Egg Harbor without food, but I promised we'd find something in the next metropolis -- Sturgeon Bay. As luck would have it, I took the bypass around Sturgeon Bay, leaving McDonald's as our only option. Not willing to yet accept an Egg McMuffin in defeat, Erin told me to press onward. I could hear the gun cocking.

Somewhere around an hour into our journey, I saw a sign pointing down a distressingly neglected road for the Cattail Café. By this point we had passed several dining options, but they had all failed the "is it still open?" test -- meaning one could not tell if the restaurant was still, in fact, a restaurant. After driving along County Road C for a stretch, we came across a metal framed barn which served as the Cattail Café. Upon entering, we encountered a clean, family run restaurant with a lovely breakfast menu and a handful of charming farm folk. My mother-in-law gave me the "I could wring your neck for this" look right up until her food arrived, at which point she agreed that this was an acceptable option.

We returned to Big Whitey for our day's drive home. We had elected to venture through Madison, Wisconsin and avoid Chicago on the drive home. Erin has been wanting to visit Madison for some time, and over the course of the week she discovered a store in Madison which sold a particular baby carrier that she had been considering ordering over the Internet. After a quick stop at a Wisconsin cheese chalet and several hours of listening to Bill Bryson on the iPod, we arrived in Madison.

Madison proved to be a delightful college town, full of eclectic shops and non-chainable eateries. We made our first stop at Happy Bambino to look for Erin's baby carrier. The store carries a variety of hard to find baby products, and the staff were more than helpful in allowing Erin to try on the various baby carriers. Grant obligingly slobbered on all of the display models, leaving his sticky, damp calling card on virtually everything in the store. I will say that I was made somewhat uncomfortable initially by the black and white photographs around the store, featuring pregnant mothers posing in the nude, covering all the interesting bits with their hands, legs, etc. And just about the time I had gained control of myself, a hippie chick with tattoo covered arms entered the store and inquired if she could "use the chair." Apparently this is code for "can I plop out a boob for a bit to feed this kid" in mother-speak. This always proves a tricky situation for me. Do you look and smile approvingly in an "awe, that's a beautiful bonding thing you're doing there...with your boob...which is exceedingly large and inviting" or do you just avoid all eye contact, treating the exposed mammary like a missing eye or wooden leg? I could use some help on this...really...

Anyway, we departed the store with a new baby carrier and made our way to the row of shops running between the state capital and University of Wisconsin campus. Our shopping didn't last long, as it was approximately the temperature of a slightly active volcano outside, so we made our way to The Old Fashioned Restaurant on the square. I found this place through a bit of web research, and it turned out to be perhaps my favorite restaurant of the trip. It was an old bar featuring numerous beers on tap and a wide array of interesting sandwiches and lunch faire. My father-in-law and I enjoyed some $2 pints of some local brew and regained our color before venturing back into the heat.

Our drive was uneventful, save for a few near misses with dull looking individuals talking on their cellphones while driving on the freeway. Erin is sick of me saying it, but I really do think talking on a cellphone should be illegal while driving. Hands free or not, you can't convince me you're paying attention, but I digress. Having not eaten in nearly three hours, we stopped in Oglesby, Illinois for dinner.

Since I had taken the reins for the day with regard to selecting eateries, I bypassed the fast food options in favor of a small wooden sign off the highway pointing toward The Root Beer Stand. As we approached this traditional looking drive-in, it appeared to be packed with cars at the outdoor speakers, which warmed my heart. As we approached, it became apparent that the outdoor portion of the drive-in was now used merely as a parking lot, and all the patrons were inside. So we ventured inside (again, despite mother-in-law "we passed good food three blocks ago" stares.)

The Root Beer Stand proved to have wonderful, greasy, deep fried drive-in food in spades, and we wolfed down cheeseburgers, root beer, and various ice cream concoctions in large quantities. While waiting for our food, an elderly woman approached Grant and began cooing at him. I'm not sure cooing is really the right word though, as she had one of those old lady voices which suggested she was a mere two Winstons from talking through a hole in her throat. She insisted on touching the poor boy, and I feared at one point she was going to kiss him. Grant was a trooper though. He was actually rather engrossed with her, to be honest. In addition to her angelic voice, she was missing a tooth here or there. Grant was transfixed on a gap in her smile on the upper right side, and you could just see that he was trying to decide if he could put his finger through it. Eventually another baby entered the restaurant, and Grant was left only to wonder about his semi-toothed friend. Erin took note of the fact that the woman was wearing a sort of shirt/shorts one piece made to look like an American flag. This was at least the second time on this trip that someone wearing flag garb insisted on over-touching our precious child. This is a trend I will keep an eye on.

After Oglesby, we made our way through the remaining Illinois farmland and eventually emerged in Indiana. The vacation was made fun by the presence of family and our delightfully gassy son, as well as the usual array of food options I manage to find along the highway. We're off to Gatlinburg in a few weeks, which will provide a positively cosmopolitan contrast to the Wisconsin waterfronts. Dollywood, here we come.