Conversation had come to a standstill

"Oh, how he longed for someone to break out of this and say something, if nothing else than a reference to the fact that life has other things to offer. He was really looking for someone to allude to that, if only in a kind of code -- yes, if only someone or other, during one of those quick exchanges in the teacher's lounge, would suddenly point his index finger at the heavens and in that way signal that there existed a long religious tradition, based on Christianity, in our part of the world, and that consequently one often pointed straight up like that, where according to tradition God and his angels, well, the blessed ones too, were supposed to be, for then Elias Rukla would have thrown his arms around his neck, regardless of how ironic such an index finger would have appeared, both to the one who performed this act and to the others."

From Dag Solstad's Shyness and Dignity

Vacation Diaries, Day 2: Family discovery day

I'm not sure what made my Norwegian, fjord-living ancestors stop at Six Mile Grove outside of Benson, Minnesota, and call it home.

But make it home they did, building a church across the way and a school down the lane. All that remains is the cemetery, where my great-great-grandparents and great-grandparents were buried.

































Great-grandpa Rasmus







I spent my vacation day with my dad, exploring his hometown, visiting my (step) grandma (who pressed lefse and hardanger into my hands as I left), eating rosettes and flatbread at the local bakery, and meeting people who are actually named "Swede."

Discoveries:
1. My family has a here-to-unrealized tradition of draft-dodging, starting with my great-grandparents, who left Six Mile Grove for North Dakota for seven miserable years so that the oldest son could stay as the head of household and thus avoid serving in WWI. (See also Grandpa, "sand on the lung," WWII, and Dad, "old football injury," Vietnam).

2. My great-grandma had 14 children in 24 years. If a child died after being born, they used the same name for the next child. (Luckily, twice was always the charm).

3. In leafing through the big book of descendants from my grandma's maternal line, I came across lifelong friends of Husband's family, their neighbors at the Ely cabin. Luckily I did not come across Husband's family itself (Although my dad pointed out the first cousin swap done by the great-grandparents was much worse. Apparently it was slim pickin's at Six Mile Grove.)

The little house on the prairie where my great-great grandparents lived (now on display in the local historical society)












Cozy

Benson is also where they make Shakers vodka using local wheat.

Threes

VACATION PREP
Surely how you prepare for a vacation says a lot about who you are.
For example:
1. Husband packs the day before. I save itemized lists on my computer: I open St. John 2006.doc, make a few minor adjustments, and get packing. ...(at least two days in advance).
2. After once being forced to jettison excess poundage from my suitcase, I now haul my suitcase and plop it down on the home scale before embarking on a flight. But still, when they place my bag on the airport scale, I find myself chatting up the airline worker in hopes that she/he is distracted.
3. I learned just a few years ago* that not all families pack booze in their carry-on wheelie bags so that when they arrive they don't have to hunt down the nearest liquor store (which is usually closed by that time). We also pack our own glasses (we're kind of particular).
*The peals of astonished laughter by a coworker clued me in. This is her favorite Tacohead story.

TOP THREE SIGHTINGS, courtesy of recent lake running:
1. Man in parka, ski mask, and shorts.
2. Woman running while clutching earphone cord in teeth.
3. Man running while holding shirt aloft to display view of abs

RECENT REALIZATIONS
1. This was my last thought before falling asleep Saturday night: If Husband ever contracted head lice (say, from a recent student), I absolutely would not be able to comb through his hair, no matter how much I'd tell myself to suck it up.
2. My friend has a MySpace page for her butt.

Coffee, rediscovered

My parents had very few rules, but they were firm on one: if you're going to drink coffee, you have to learn to drink it black.

And it's a good rule. You need to learn to enjoy the real taste of coffee. There are going to be times when cream and sugar won't be available.

But I'm just finally realizing that just because I can drink it black, doesn't mean I have to.

Specifically, I can add a generous dash of milk.

And suddenly coffee -- unforgiving, harsh on the stomach -- becomes creamy, decadent, sinful.

So when I was driving through St. Peter this weekend and needed a break, the neon "OPEN" sign of the co-op caught my eye, and soon enough I was at the coffee bins, letting glossy rich beans pour down into the brown paper bag, visions of steamy cups dancing in my head.

Vacation Diaries, Day 1: Madison Weekend

Thanks to a random teacher day off, Husband was able to join me for my sojourn to the dairy state to explore its capital with longtime friend and former Maine resident A (and boyfriend, B). Equally important, Husband was able to drive as I read and puzzled and wrote and slept and was a vacationing woman of luxury.

I have to hand it to you, Madison, you're awfully convenient, with your easy walking, plentiful restaurants, and tempting bars. As I shared my vacation challenge with the others it became clear that our most difficult decision would be choosing which of Madison's drinking traditions we should embrace. Ads for the "Two Schlitz lunch" and the famous yet unconquered "boot of beer" beckoned, but we remained firm to our dedication to the ice cream drink. Specifically, the grasshopper - a delicious blend of creme de menthe, creme de Cacao, and vanilla ice cream. On Saturday, when A and B shared their recent homebrewing efforts, we made it a theme weekend by indulging in beer floats -- dark creamy homebrew with organic vanilla ice cream.


















Other adventures...
You know all those times you've gone snowshoeing and wondered if you really needed them?
I present you: the time I went hiking but really needed snowshoes.


















We could hardly drive through Mount Horeb without stopping at the Mustard Museum. I was ready to express fake enthusiasm for homemade displays but no! The museum was a class act*, with rows and rows of mustard for purchase (and sampling) . I was overcome with a zealous passion for mustard... where has mustard been all my life?!
*Well, except for the "Poupon U" merchandise.
























We wandered down the obligatory and legendary State Street, eating (biscuits rivaling mustard in my newfound cult-like devotion), shopping (why don't we have a Community Pharmacy?), and exploring (shortcut through the Capitol! Liberty indeed). Everything is so much more fun when you're out of town and unchained from the errand-running, chore-completing responsibilities that mar weekends at home.
























This picture sums up the weekend quite nicely. What a treat it is to write, sipping a G&T with friends around, making dinner and chatting after a day of exploring.
The giant bowl of sweet potatoes fries is just gravy.

Vacation Diaries: Intro

So for the past month I've been scheming about what to do with my surplus of vacation days that will be no longer if I don't use them by July. This seems like an opportunity that I should use wisely, as surely wasting days = bad karma = my next job having only 10 days vacation.
If the challenge of finding things that cost little money and that often don't involve [vacation-limited] Husband wasn't enough, I've added the following goal for each day used:

1. Go somewhere I haven't been OR
2. Do something I haven't done

I'm proud to report that my first day (Friday) and the accompanying weekend were successful.

Stay tuned for Vacation Diaries, Day 1: Madison weekend.

TEASER:
Which "never-done" Wisconsin-pride alcohol-related challenge did Tacohead accept?
1. The boot of beer - the realization that none of us had never "done the boot"
2. Ice cream drinks - a small town supper club tradition, the dairy state at its best
3. The two-Schlitz lunch - proudly offered by one downtown establishment... could we resist???