Seems doubtful that the kids latched onto the earnestness of my threats of making them pen their "What I Did On My Late Autumn Vacation" essays, which I guess makes me an unsatisfactory dole-r out-er of things. I'm use to disrespect. It costs nothing but hurt feelings.
So, between sniffles and snobs, I'll tell you, dearest, gentlest reader, that our little ensemble makes some horrific music. We lack mastery of our instruments and firelight does nothing to illuminate vocal talent of any stripe. But that didn't stop of from blanching the the hell out of the blues; it was so bad that I swore that I could almost see the genre's ghost flutter away, high over the forest, far past the lake. But during our disservice, we laughed and drank, and then fell asleep before the the new day got its bearings.
Of course this gave way to rising with the sun. A slow, rain-slogged morning. Lots of coffee, then tossing soggy tennis balls as far into the lake as the dogs' leashes would allow.
Once we got going, we mostly spent the day terrorizing the small town thrift stores. We tend to prefer the ones brimming with things, the ones with a woozy lack of order.
And so, with the car newly packed, we went cabin-bound. Soon, we were greeted by W&J. Then we began assembling a meal, a process during which I feel inordinately in love with how easy it so to make bread sticks. Bread sticks! Oh my fuck.
Lots of American music. Trivia from the 1990s. Beer, beer, beer. Bed, eventually. Haze entered the picture at some point, but I can't pinpoint where it crept in or how it managed to escape. Next thing I remembered was daylight, revitalized.
First thing that happened was that W&J were called away on a domestic emergency. Those of us left started early, tracking food and brewpubs. A lunch of Pizza, washed down samples at Old Hayward Eatery & Brew Pub. Their alt was great, so we had a pint.
After, we modeled our red and black flannel jackets in photos on the site of the Lumberjack World Championships, which was understandably shuttered for the season. But here's a photo of Amy and me, with the rest of our bunch filling the background:
Then, after turning down the exorbitant cost of getting within kissing distance of the world's largest muskie (one half-a-city- block long and four stories tall), we decided to stand in front of the "electric" fence that portioned off the behemoth and instead burn film at a distance.
Thirsty, and wanting to continue the aquatic theme, we stopped at the wonderfully well-restored Angry Minnow brewery for more samplers. The Imperial IPA was the standout for me, but everything was nurseable, so we did. We nursed under a bold stamp of late afternoon sunlight until there was nothing left.
Again, the haze entered. A good dose of haze should be the ubiquitous theme of the any good weekend, I'd argue.
Anyway, under the haze, we ran like banshees in the lakefront acreage. The dogs bounded every which way. Then we dumped damp leaves and twigs in the fire pit and kept waving the lighter over them until a fire took hold. The haze lifted a touch. Eventually, four of were us piled on a queen-sized bed for some (very platonic, thank you very much) atrocious misuse of Hollywood's bankroll.
In the middle of the night, I woke up to a tightness in the old growth forest above my...nethers. Apparently, the tone and timbre of my flesh appealed to a tick, who decided to seek asylum there. Amy, drowsy and squinting out the lamplight, clasped its body between her nails and tugged it out. I slept fitfully for the rest of the night, sore from the pickpick. I'm still nervous of a that a Lyme target might show up, but at the same time curious how the shape would manifest in that assemblage of parts. Uh-huh.
Anyway, I could tell you about Taco Juan's and the hours stuffed with talk radio on the way home, but I'll spare you that. You're likely already a cyber expat, camping out on some other digital continent by this time as it is.
But no harm. I just wanted to get this all down; to explain how it all went down. I aim to live by example, to keep my end of promises. This is what we saw & these are the things we did during our late autumn vacation.
In summary: Fuck the summertime. Viva Wisconsin!
