In Which I Arrive an Hour and a Half Late for My Daughter’s Wedding Reception

Not the actual wedding reception but a separate reception hosted by Dayton’s family last weekend. 

Two aunts on the left, Grandmother on the right

I have a reputation for being late but outdid myself this time. How does one nonchalantly walk into a room of mostly strangers, and hope it’s not obvious that I don’t have it all together? That I had  told Google Maps to find the shortest distance route not the shortest time? I hoped a lot of people would be standing around talking, and I could slip in the back unnoticed.

No such luck. This was a small reception. We walked in at the front of the room with everyone sitting down, all eyes on us, and Dayton’s aunt jumped up and said, “Oh, you made it.” Very embarrassing. Kindness all around. Nobody blunt enough to say, “You nincompoop. Who would be stupid enough to almost miss what you drove 350 miles for?”

I’d originally declined the invitation. Between a wedding, vacation, and house projects, we’ve had a busy summer. But I had to drive to LaCrosse so decided the extra 150 miles were worth it to get to know Dayton’s family better.

So how did I, someone who's been driving for 38 years, make a mistake of such epic proportions? For starters, not giving trip planning serious thought. I had to be in Aplington, Iowa, by 6:30 Friday night. I’d driven through Aplington 15 years ago so vaguely knew its location. Iowa is mostly laid out in a mile grid so if you know the general direction, you’ll get there sooner or later.

Later, as in my case. 

Since another daughter had our GPS, I googled directions on my iPad. Google maps estimated a six and a half hour travel time. Lani and I left Northern Wisconsin at 10 a.m., thinking we had wiggle room.

We headed south, relaxed and looking forward to shopping and eating our way down to Aplington. We were taking our old dishwasher to Kiah and Dayton, which unfortunately filled up the back of my small Pontiac Vibe and almost completely blocked my rear view. When  I needed to back up, Lani had to get out of the car to give me back up signals.

Lani had stayed up to 3 a.m. the night before so planned to sleep in the car. However, I needed a navigator and being the only passenger, she was it. She sighed, picked up the iPad, and told me where to turn.

Beautiful day, good company, pretty scenery. After stopping at a bakery and thrift store, I noticed the time and realized we had used up our margin and shouldn’t make further unnecessary stops.

Google Maps listed two options: Duluth, then south on I-35 most of the way. (Boring and monotonous) or US-63 diagonally through Western Wisconsin (very pretty). Being my father's daughter, I chose the scenic route.

Three hours into the trip, Lani accidentally lost the iPad directions. Without internet, I couldn’t get them back. We found a McDonalds and sat in their parking lot to use their free Wi-fi to pull up the map again. 

We continued south and I suggested Lani screenshot the directions in case she accidentally lost the screen again, we’d still have them. Lani looked over with a sheepish grin and said, “Too late.” Seriously? She had lost the directions twice in twenty minutes. Sigh.

Tired of listening umpteen times to Lani's Viva la Vida CD by Coldplay, I found an oldies radio station while driving through Lake City, Minnesota. I was transported back to high school when I was young and didn't have the responsibility or pressure of timing road trips.

I generously provided Lani with useful bits of information. "These are the Beach Boys. They're an American classic. It's important to know who they are. This is Journey, the same group that sings "Don't Stop Believing." The Eagles song, "Best of My Love" always made me sad. Yes, I know this sounds like a woman singing, but the Bee Gees are three brothers. After an hour, Lani was tired of music history lessons and popped the Coldplay CD back in.

We kept driving and hoped to see another McDonalds. Unfortunately after US-63 crosses 
I-94, there’s not another obvious McDonalds until 80 miles later in Rochester. I started mentally kicking myself. I should have brought a Wisconsin map. Or an atlas. Or a child who knew how to navigate. In self-defense, Lani reminded me that she’s the youngest and had never had to navigate before. She usually sleeps or reads on road trips.

A car search found maps of Michigan (useless for this trip) and Minnesota which was useful for the 80 miles we were in Minnesota. We could either find a McDonalds in busy Rochester, or call Keith who would use that tone to give directions.

Thankfully a third option presented itself. Dayton called and gave us directions from Rochester. I promptly somehow turned east on I-90 instead of west.

After turning round five miles later, we were on the way again. We exited I-90 at Dexter, Minnesota, and drove south through Iowa corn and soybean fields and an occasional small town. I turned left when I should have turned right. We missed turns and got turned around. So much for being easy to find places in Iowa. 

Dayton called at 6:22 to check our progress and said we still had an hour and a half. What? Nothing sucks the fun out of a road trip more than knowing short of a life flight helicopter or a Star Trek Transporter, we had no chance of arriving on time. We bought a small bag of Doritos at the nearest convenience store to console ourselves.

While buying Doritos, I saw a wonderful, easy to understand, compact, laminated Iowa map but balked at the eight dollar price tag. I refused to spend that much when I had three Iowa maps at home. 

Lani entertained herself that last stretch with a few "This is taking forever!" selfies. 

I normally drive the speed limit or a few miles over, but under the circumstances, drove as fast as I safely could and hoped if pulled over, the officer would have pity on my plight and not issue a ticket. Thankfully we didn’t see any policemen.  

We finally arrived in Aplington and drove through town hoping to see the church somewhere. We didn't. Had to swallow my pride again and call Dayton. He directed us to turn just past the bank and Stinky’s Bar and Grill (love that name) and head north a few miles.

Just then, I heard the distinctive clanging of a railroad crossing. Ironic. To be so close and have to spend five minutes watching a LONG westbound train take its sweet time going by.

We found the church and debated how to handle our late arrival. I figured it is what it is. Everyone already knows I’m late and obviously has issues.

Lani complained to her sympathetic sisters, “Mom kept stopping to use the bathroom.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I said, “Lani, you hypocrite. You went every time I did.”

We had a great time and Dayton’s family made sure I knew how to get to La Crosse the next day. I had a map, written directions, Google directions on the iPad, and a screenshot. Happy to report, I made it without any glitches.

Other than arriving 15 minutes late and making my son Andrew late for work. But as we all know, it could have been worse.

I’m asking for an 8 x 10 travel atlas for my birthday next month.

Canadian Road Trip - Day #2

I started this story a few weeks ago before all this new grandbaby business started. If you missed the first installment, or it's been so long you can't remember what I wrote, you can read about Day 1 of our excursion by clicking here. 

For the reader's digest version, one fifty-something short mother, her two twenty-something equally short daughters, and a thirty-year-old long-legged engineer friend from church headed north to Ontario, Canada in an aging, used to be nice but still very comfy, green Grand Marquis for a weekend trip to see a good friend get married.  On Day 1, we drove from Ashland, Wisconsin to Thunder Bay Ontario.

Day 2 

When the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., Kiah remembered that Thunder Bay was in eastern time zone and Sioux Lookout was in central. We slept for another hour. Sweet. 

I'd forgotten my slip and nylons so headed to Wal-Mart. I asked the ditzy young clerk with a pink stud in her tongue where to find slips. 

She said, "What are slips?" 

I told her, "Something you wear underneath a dress so people can't see through it." (Don't young ladies wear slips anymore?)

I almost had a heart attack buying gas in Canada. Ouch! Muy expensive! It's sold by the liter and I don't know how that translates to gallons, but buying half a tank of gas cost at least $25 more than it does in America. 

Christina drove for awhile and our rule is the driver gets to choose what to listen to. Christina really likes an Irish group called Gaelic Storm. They are good musicians but sing a lot of drinking songs and Christina burnt us out on this particular album three years back when she listened to it over and over.

After an hour of Gaelic Storm, Kiah and I rebelled. When Christina and Brendon got out of the car to buy donuts, I changed the album. Kiah thought we should hide Brendon's Zune (kind of like an iPod). She suggested hiding it in their stuff as they probably wouldn't think to look there.  Kiah hid the Zune in Christina's backpack. When they returned, Brendon asked if anything needed to go in the trunk. Kiah handed him Christina's backpack.

Kiah and I giggled like thirteen-year-olds while we waited for them to realize they were Gaelic Stormless. When they finally noticed, we passed this ransom note to the front seat.

They refused to capitulate to our demands so i played the two songs I have on my ipad and then Kiah and I sang enduring classics like, "Oh Where is My Hairbrush?" and "Home on the Range." 

Kiah, who has a nice singing voice, wanted to make it clear that she was just goofing around, and said she was singing as off-key as possible on purpose.  I don't sing well and couldn't lie. I said I was just singing normal. 

After a four hour drive from Thunder Bay, we arrived in Sioux Lookout with an hour to spare. In the absence of Taco Bell we ate at the Canadian fast food chain called "Tim Hortons." (I asked a clerk who Tim Horton was and she didn't know.) We finished getting ready in the restaurant's bathroom, then high-tailed it to the wedding.

It was an outdoor lakeside wedding. Very pretty and sweet and worth driving 408.68 miles for.

They are a neat couple and we're excited for them. It was a God-honoring ceremony and we enjoyed every minute.  Both families heartily approve so it was a truly joyous ocassion. After the bridesmaids walked down the aisle, two junior bridesmaids carried a sign that said, "Uncle Nathan, Here comes your girl." 

They wrote their own vows. Nathan went first and did a nice job. Alisha's vows were eloquent and well thought out. When she finished, Nathan joked, "I'm glad I went first."

On the way back to the car, I rolled my foot and fell on the grass. I hope the only people who saw me fall were my travel companions. One minute, I was there, and the next I wasn't. Thankfully, I wasn't hurt. I didn't know nylons could get grass stained. Very embarrassing. 

We enjoyed the reception. Much food, all good, though we were surprised and disappointed there wasn't gravy. They had an amazing dessert bar instead of wedding cake. I don't use the word "amazing" lightly because the word gets watered down when it's used all the time, but this was truly amazing. About twenty different desserts and they all looked good. That alone made the trip worth it. 

Christina amused herself at the reception by playing with the melting candles at our table. Whoever cleared the table probably wondered why someone had filled five large plastic clear glasses with melted candle wax. That's my girl!

The Canadians we visited with, when they heard where we were from, often said some variation of, "Oh, you're from down south." When you live in the northernmost tip of Wisconsin, you're not used to be referenced to as from down south. 

The bugs were awful. Even with bug spray they still got through. Christina reacted to a bug bite and her left arm swelled and started hurting.

Our family calls Brendon my second son. We feed him and in return, he helps move furniture and reach  things on high shelves. I'm holding dipped Oreo cookie favors that I snitched off places that people didn't sit at to bring home to my four daughters back home who couldn't go. I'm aware the purple jacket doesn't go with the outfit, but cold people cannot be choosy. 

Congratulating Nathan

  

We had a 90 minute drive south to our hotel.  We kept seeing signs like "Moose Crossing, Moose on the Loose, and Moose Danger" but thought it was false advertising because we had yet to see a moose. Kiah and Brendon finally saw one on the ride to the motel.  Since it was just the bare outline before it lumbered in the woods, I didn't think that counted as an official moose sighting. 

We arrived at Driden, Ontario's Best Western Hotel to discover that our small room only had one queen bed. Made our sketchy two bed motel room the night before not seem so bad. Brendon slept on the floor by the door and Christina slept on the floor by the bed and Kiah and I enjoyed a good night's sleep on the bed.

One day in Canada so far - a big, beautiful, watery, northern place. Still hoping to see a moose before we head south to Northern Wisconsin tomorrow.

Expanding My Horizons

My First Trip to Canada

My oldest daughters, Christina, Kiah, and I took a weekend trip the end of June to Canada to watch our adopted college student, Nathan, marry his beautiful sweetheart.  The wedding was ten hours away in Sioux Lookout, Ontario. Christina planned our route and itinerary.

The thought of driving that far with Kiah the speed demon did not appeal, but I wanted to see Nathan's wedding, Canada, and Lake Superior's north shore. 

Our friend, Brendon, came with us. We figured he'd be handy to change flat tires, share driving, and keep weirdos away.  Weirdos shouldn't bother us with a six-foot two man around. (Unless the weirdos were taller than him.) Brendon deserves a special award for traveling that far with three quirky women. 

Since we were cooped up in a 1996 Grand Marquis for three days, we had to learn to accommodate our differences. Such as the three young people enjoy listening to music much of the time. I could drive to Alaska and back without music and be fine. Kiah plays loud music in the morning while she gets ready. Loud music in the morning grates on my nerves.

Brendon and I drive the speed limit. Kiah doesn't. I like to stop and smell every rose along the way. Kiah doesn't stop for anything but gas and food. Christina and I love to hike and stop at state parks and scenic overlooks. Kiah, not so much. Christina and Kiah are coffee drinkers and frequent coffee shops. Brendon and I aren't coffee drinkers and the thought of paying $4 and up for something that tastes like burnt muddy water is unthinkable. Brendon is a morning person. The three of us are night people. 

We left early Friday morning, hoping the 60% percent chance of forecasted severe thunderstorms meant a 40% chance of no thunderstorms.  Severe weather never materialized, but it did rain and I can't say what Minnesota's north shore looks like as it was rainy and overcast most of the day. 

June 21 and we had this kind of weather. 

(People in Florida and Arizona, eat your heart out.)

Kiah protested stopping at Gooseberry State Park. Said hiking in the rain wasn't fun. Said rainy days were for sitting in coffee shops reading books. We ignored her.  Recent rains had swelled the waterfall to impressive proportions. The water was much higher than when we went there three years ago. 

I like this picture because while I love my daughters dearly, I'm not good in emergencies. I'm standing a respectful distance away from the way-over-the-banks rushing river, while Christina, who is good in emergencies is standing right beside Kiah, ready to grab her if something goes wrong.

We all agreed it was too foggy to stop at Split Rock Lighthouse.  Kiah wasn't disappointed we cancelled the other state park stops as well.

Finally we reached Grand Marais, a cute tourist town at the top of Minnesota. Kiah asked how to spell Grand Marais. I saw "Grand Marquis" on our car's dashboard and said, "like Marquis, but substitute "a" for "qu."

Kiah said, "But I don't know how to spell marquis." 

I told her, "like Marais, but substitute "qu" for "a."  Even my ipad was confused and autocorrected Marais to "Maria."

We're copying the mural of Mama Bear and her two cubs.

Years ago, Keith wanted to name our son "Sven or Ole" but I liked "Andrew" better. First time I've seen a restaurant using those names. 

We ate lunch at The Crooked Spoon. I saw this sign and couldn't resist. 

Vacations are about doing and eating things you can't do at home. I'd never eaten rabbit before and thought it had a mild flavor. It was doctored with Mexican seasonings, so I'm not sure how straight rabbit tastes. 

We left the restaurant, only to discover that Brendon had put our table's salt shaker in Christina's pocket. She made him take it back. Something about road tripping makes us revert back to being children. 

Lake Superior is awesome! So is my daughter.

We all enjoyed this stop. I'm not a donut person, but who could resist the world's best donuts? I got a maple long john and Brendon bought a Skizzle, which is a yummy, fried sweet pastry. After he gave us each a bite, we wanted to get our own but resisted since we'd already eaten a donut. If you're ever in Grand Marais, be sure to get a Skizzle. 

This sign is much more welcoming that the grumpy people at the border crossing. 

The unfriendly Canadian guard fired questions at us. "Where are you going. Why? For how long? What are you taking? Do you have more than $10,000?"  We could safely say we didn't.

I was disappointed not to see Taco Bell north of Duluth. If I ever get filthy rich, I'll build Taco Bell franchises every three hours on my most traveled routes.

We found it weird to be in a foreign country that didn't feel much different than our own. When you cross the Mexican border, it's obvious you're in a different country. But Canada is much like America except for them using metric, eating Ketchup potato chips, and pronouncing words like "progress" differently. 

We finally reached Thunder Bay, Ontario, which in my subjective opinion isn't as cool as it's name. To be fair, it was gloomy and overcast. Our hotel looked sketchy but Christina said it was one of the cheaper options. If Brendon hadn't been along, I wouldn't have stayed there. 

We visited Kakabeka Falls which was very pretty. Kiah stayed in the car. She's like her Dad that way. (Inside Dad comment - "You see one waterfall, you've seen them all.")

When Kiah was driving in Thunder Bay, the GPS said to turn left so she put on her blinker. We stopped for a red light and she got distracted looking at nearby shops. When the light turned green, she said, "Why do I have my blinker on?," turned it off, and drove straight ahead.

 We ate dinner at a fun restaurant called, "Gargoyles." Our waiter heard we were headed to Sioux Lookout and said they eat a lot of gravy there. The bride was Mennonite, so the food was bound to be good. Yes, we could live with gravy. 

We're at a cool scenic view that overlooks the city. Only you can't see the city in this picture because it's behind me.

That night we tried to watch Duck Dynasty on my ipad, but a dialog box said we couldn't in that region. Probably a good thing. Hate for Canadians to think that's what all Americans are like. 

We survived one day in the car together without getting on each other's nerves. Happy to be in Canada and looking forward to the big occasion the next day.

Stay tuned.

Remember Me?

 
The one cursed by a procrastination fairy at birth. 

This might be a new personal blog record for me. The longest time I've left one post up. Apologies to anyone nice enough to check back that kept having to see that last post for days on end. 

In my defense, November was a blur and December isn't looking too promising either. 



The blurriness began the middle of October when our daughter-in-law Rachel came to visit to run a 10k race with Christina and Kiah.

 

 She took my three youngest girls home with her for the week. The next week, Andrew, Rachel, and two friends came up for a short visit. They were all headed to a friend's wedding two hours northeast of here in Upper Michigan. 

I'd written earlier this fall about our recent rash of birthdays.  We have our four fall birthdays, then two guests, Ruth and Rachel, also had birthdays. 

When Andrew and his carload arrived, I was amazed to find that their friend Megan would turn 25 while at our house. What are the chances?  

Kiah loves to concoct one-of-a-kind decadent birthday treats so she created what I affectionately call, "Death By Birthday Cake." She made a Three Layer Red Velvet Cheesecake, which was heavenly for the first few bites, but sat like lead for the rest of the night in the stomachs of those, myself included, who weren't smart enough to eat a small piece of that rich dessert. 

On November 3rd, Keith, Anna, Amy, Lani, and I flew to Virginia for ten days. 

We spent three days with six others from our Wisconsin church at the headquarters of Advancing Native Missions in Charlottesville, VA. 

Our church is exploring how to become involved with the work ANM does worldwide. ANM supports the work native missionaries do in their own countries. Sending American missionaries to a foreign country is very expensive. Supporting a native missionary who reaches out to his own people can be done at a fraction of the cost.  We thoroughly enjoyed our time with the amazing people at ANM headquarters.  

Our church friends went back to Wisconsin and our family stayed for five more days. We reconnected with old friends in Virginia and also visited Washington DC.

We returned home and a week later drove six hours down to Iowa to Andrew and Rachel's for Thanksgiving. Kiah, Rachel, and Anna cooked most of the Thanksgiving Dinner which tasted wonderful.  

This past weekend, Christina, Amy, Lani, and I went with twelve other people from our church to Minneapolis (four hours away) to volunteer at an Operation Christmas Child Processing Center.  We had a great time and hope to go back next year. 

Then my laptop died and my sweet husband replaced it with an iPad, which took awhile to learn since I'm not a teenager, and is horribly distracting, especially for people cursed by procrastination fairies.  

So now it's the first Tuesday in December and while I'm very thankful for all the visits and trips we've had, things like blogging and cleaning bathrooms has slipped through the cracks. 

If you're still reading this post, you've earned 50 Messy Cars and Muddy Shoes points. These can be redeemed at our house anytime, but maybe not during your birthday unless you're willing to risk eating one of our recklessly decadent birthday treats.   

The Library of Congress

 On a recent trip to Virginia, we crammed a lot into our one day in Washington D.C., then split up for our last two hours.

Keith and Anna went to a Smithsonian museum, and Amy, Lani, and I officially became nerds. Of all the things to see in Washington D.C., we chose The Library of Congress.

I was thrilled. The Library of Congress is the book lover’s equivalent of Mecca. For years I’ve seen Library of Congress numbers on almost every book I’ve read.

We walked in the door of their first building and I started to take a picture. “You can’t take pictures in here,” a clerk snapped.

Immediately self-conscious, I lowered the camera.

A lady stepped around me, slid her pass through a scanner, and disappeared around the corner. Oh no. We didn’t have a pass.  

The clerk asked impatiently, “Can I help you?”

My girls waited for me to answer. Temporarily tongue-tied, I just stared at her.

The clerk snapped, “Y’all speak English?”

My mind cleared and I asked about tours. She directed us across the street, saying we couldn’t take pictures until we went through security.  

The girls recognized the second building from the movie National Treasure.

I think it’s the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. Every square inch of the floors, walls, ceilings, and stairs are decorated with marble, tile, mosaics, murals, and sculptures.

A video got us even more excited to be at such a cool place. Our tour guide obviously loved his job. Who wouldn’t? The guide described the building’s history, design, and special features. After fifteen minutes we had only seen one ornate staircase. During his lecture on an elaborate ceiling mosaic, Lani whispered, “Mom, this is boring.”

It’s against Vik rules to say “bored” or its variations. However, while I might find lectures on fancy ceilings interesting, my daughters did not. We ditched the tour and struck off on our own.

We found the great reading room and I thought I had died and gone to heaven. It’s huge, beautiful, and inviting. 

We would be better people if we could just read one book in that magnificent room. We saw people in there but couldn’t see how they got in. An employee said the room was only for researchers.

I told Amy, “You have to be smarter to use that room.”

We saw a Gutenberg Bible on display. This Bible was the first major book printed with movable type in the West and the first produced on a printing press in the world. There are only twenty-one surviving complete copies.

I took a picture, only to be snapped at by a fellow tourist. “You’re not supposed to take pictures of it.” Sure enough, a sign forbid taking pictures of the Bible. I plead ignorance but I’m not sorry to have this picture.

We saw exhibits which would have been interesting if we had expected a museum. When you visit a Smithsonian Museum, you expect a museum. When you’re at The Library of Congress, you expect a library. At the very least, a congress of some sort.

We couldn’t stand it any longer and asked an employee, “Where are the books?”

She explained there weren’t physical books for visitors to see. They store books in various places in three buildings. Researchers can use the facility, but the average life-long bookaholic cannot.

Oh the cruel irony. To be in the largest library in the world, a place with 34 million books and not be able to touch a book was unbearable and inexcusable.

We had expected floor after floor, stack after glorious stack of books. Not a museum. Their display of the contents of Lincoln’s pockets the night he died was a small consolation when we expected a complete Nancy Drew collection.

To be fair, we only had an hour and even if we could access their books, one can only look at so many books in an hour. To be fair, if we hadn’t ditched the tour, we wouldn’t have asked employees stupid questions or took pictures of things we weren’t supposed to.

Their gift shop was fun AND it had books. (I sense a method to their madness.) 

The girls dragged me out and we left to meet Keith and Anna.

Despite my huge disappointment. I came away happy. The building’s beauty alone makes the trip worthwhile. Even though we couldn’t see their books, I knew they were there. I understand the concept. I applaud their work. A collection of 35 million books is amazing, whether I could see them or not. I wished I had more time to look and listen. Now that I know what to expect, I’d love to go back.

"Children are made readers on the laps of their parents."

--Emilie Buchwald--

Dyslexics Nightmare

We spotted this sign in Bedford, Virginia last week. The first time through we took the wrong turn. Upon second glance, it was easy to see why.

Can You Beat This?

I'm still on vacation, currently in Colorado Springs. I had fun comparing gas prices on the way here. Gas cost $3.69 a gallon when we left Ashland. Northwest Iowa's gas was .50 cheaper.

Somewhere south of Omaha we saw $3.14. Too bad we already had a full gas tank. Now here in Colorado, we're back up to $3.69.

What's it like where you're at?