Travelogue: Day 2 - Door County

After picking Parker up at the airport in Omaha, we set out on our eleven-hour drive to Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, arriving at the Holiday Music Motel just about the time dark was settling in. I had found this funky little motel as we were making plans and fell in love with it from their website. It is an old motel that had previously fallen into disrepair but has been restored and decorated in its original 1950s style. Just unusual enough to make me happy, I loved the old, metal furniture in the room and the way most of the place seemed like a step back in time in a Psycho meets Donna Reed sort of way.

Always attracted to the quirky and off-beat, I knew this was the place we needed to stay. The motel is owned by a group a musicians and has an on-site recording studio. During recording sessions, guests can watch what is happening in the studio on their television in the room. While there weren’t any recording sessions scheduled during our stay, it was still a cool idea and we just sort of loved the place.

Using the Holiday Music Motel as our home base, we set out to discover Door County. We spent the day going from town to town seeing what each had to offer. We stopped at a couple of art galleries but each time we found a grumpy artist complaining about outsiders coming in and stealing business or artists 'borrowing' ideas without permission and we eventually concluded we’d come to the area when the artist community was having a collective bad day. We decided to stop visiting galleries. All that negativity was harshing on our mellow.

We opted to visit wineries instead. They gave samples.

This was our first trip as a family when only one member wasn’t able to participate. We were all sad to leave Charles at home. Well everyone except the cats and the garden who were happy to be left in his care. Anyway, while he couldn't join us in body, we brought him along in spirit and included him in photos.

Here I got a shot of all three kids at Fish Creek.

Here he is with Parker, doing a bit of yachting.

And, being the friendly sort, we even got a shot of him with some strangers he had just met.

We visited a few wineries and took in some samples at each. Charles particularly enjoyed the Chardonay.

Dinner was at Al Johnson’s, a Scandinavian restaurant with a grass covered roof where goats roam during the day. I was particularly excited to eat at a restaurant with goats on the roof but it turns out it was too hot for rooftop goat grazing. While their absence was something of a disappointment, I was happy to hear that the goats were treated respectfully. Thankfully Al didn’t serve goat burgers.

We ended our Door County visit with open mic night at a local bar. I would never have guessed that those small town Wisconsin residents were such rockers. Some of the motel owners and staff performed, as well as a band who had been playing at a recent music festival. Budweiser and rock ‘n roll were the order of the evening. 

Charles, being tired from yachting, stayed back in the room.

Our first encounter with Door County was a good one. A few grumpy artists, a few nice wines, and a few good musicians.

Next stop:  Mackinac Island, Michigan.

Travelouge: Day 1

I try not to be a high maintenance traveler. But, truth be told, I think I am. Particularly road trips. I don’t like them. In recent years Steve has taken the kids on road trips but I have managed to avoid them by making up convincing excuses such as being in school or writing a dissertation. Earlier in the spring, however, as Steve and Anna started talking about taking a road trip, I inserted myself into the conversation and invited myself to go along. They cheerfully and graciously welcomed me, although as the day of departure loomed closer I noticed signs of stress and am pretty sure they were meeting and exchanging feverish whispers about how awful travelling with me was going to be. I think it was the recent prescription for Valium that came in a brown unmarked box that was the real give away.

My aversion to car travel started when I was a kid.  When my family took road trips I, being the smallest, was stuck in the center of the back seat. My brother would pick on me and make me scream and then gaze innocently out the window. My mother would yell at me and my brother would act angelic until she turned around to face the front again. The cycle would repeat.

This went on for hours. Somehow my mother never seemed to catch on to what was happening and I could never seem to figure out how to make my brother scream instead. This set a tone for long car rides. I don't think I've ever fully recovered.

To be clear, no one in my current immediate family creates the same level of ruckus as my brother. But I still don’t like car travel.  Fast food grosses me out. Public restrooms are just unsettling, and truck stops are… well… let me just say when I see a bumper sticker that says, “If you are going to ride my ass at least pull my hair,” I worry for the fate of our species.
 
Nevertheless, I’ve decided to be a big girl. I’m going on a road trip.

Stop one: Omaha, Nebraska while Steve attends to business. For Anna and I this means a little bit of exploring but mostly digging into the gigantic bag of books we brought along.

And maybe a little truck stop shopping.

Next stop....Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin.

Overwhelmed by Perfection....

I try to live by the notion of having a rich life by doing new things, even if they scare me. To that end, I have tried to engage Pinterest. Truly, I have. I look at all the cute photos and sayings and recipes for a few minutes but then my anxiety meter starts running faster and faster and eventually I’ve had all I can take and move on to something else.

The fact is, I’ll never look that good, my house will never be decorated that creatively, and I’ll never cook that well. A few minutes of Pinterest and I start suffering from perfect and adorable overload. Things I neither am nor want to be.

Not that I have any objection to great ideas. I don’t.  But is weaving bacon really necessary?

When I go on Pinterest, I see instructions for exercising to achieve the perfect body next to recipes for  gooey, carmel turtle brownies. Can I have the perfect body and still eat those gooey brownies? It seems doubtful unless a whole lot of obsessive exercise follows the brownie consumption.  Maybe I can just enjoy the turtle brownie, exercise for health, and leave perfection out of the equation.

There are ideas for decorating the most adorable wedding venue ever. Really cute ideas. But I look at them and wonder, if all that effort is going into creating a whole room full of preciousness, what is going on behind the scenes?  Is an equal amount of effort going into ensuring the right people are marrying one another? Will there be as much concern for creating a loving environment after the three year-old flower girl walks down the isle dressed as Audrey Hepburn? And really, should a three-year old walk down the isle dressed as Audrey Hepburn?  A spectacular wedding doesn’t make for a spectacular marriage.

I see oodles of adorable ideas for decorating a baby’s room. And sure, when my babies were born, I did my best with what I had to create sweet little bedrooms for them. Nothing quite as cutesy as the photos I see on Pinterest but still, I did what I could. Will the cuteness of the baby’s room matter if the child grows up in an indulgent or emotionally distant home? Will that baby be concerned about those less fortunate or about making a positive difference in this world? Will having her name emblazoned across the bedroom wall make that baby girl grow up feeling valuable and important or will she fall prey, like so many others, to feeling inadequate no matter how big those letters are.

I don’t think Pinterest is a bad thing. There isn’t anything wrong with sharing cute ideas and sayings and recipes. As long as the pressure to have everything look perfect doesn’t overshadow dealing with a less than perfect, real life. 

Life is messy. Everything isn’t color coordinated. Sometimes things aren’t adorable. Sometimes they are ugly and horrible. Sometimes even the shiniest surfaces can’t hide the dark and dingy underside of life.

I understand the desire to pretty up the exterior. I think that shows more strength than wallowing. But, putting a nice gloss on what people see won’t change the interior. When that hard work is being done, it is rarely pretty.

It’s about balance. Those perfect outfits, elaborate hairstyles, and oh-so-cute decorating tricks are all well and good as long as the people creating them remember to offer grace and love and harmony to the world outside themselves. A beautiful exterior with a mean-spirited interior is nothing more than a beautiful exterior with a mean-spirited interior. The world is not a better place for it.

In the spirit of trying to do things that frighten me, maybe I’ll try out an adorable idea or two from Pinterest. I’m pretty sure I’ll still decorate my home with an off-beat style and I can guarantee nobody at my house will find heart shaped boiled eggs and woven bacon. Guaranteed.  But, I can probably stick a sprig of baby’s breath in a jar and tie it with a ribbon.

Just don’t expect me to have the perfect butt.