The Midwest, Part 1

Do you remember hearing about the heat wave that burned the Midwest this summer? You know, temperatures near 100 with humidity that could drown you? I certainly did, and I used that knowledge to guide my packing for our journey to see Michael's family. I brought the usual summer supplies: sunscreen, bathing suits, sandals, tank tops. But my challenge in that climate is always my hair. I may be a modern girl, but my thick, coarse hair is from the Old World, meant to be covered up by a babushka (Plus, ever since the kids were born, it's gone all curly on me. Has this happened to anyone else?). So I thought ahead, adding my flat iron and a range of straightening potions to our jumble of luggage so that I wouldn't scare all the farm animals.

And so we arrived. There was pouring rain. The temperature was 59 degrees.

This was bad news on a number of levels. The most pressing problem was that we were spending the first part of our trip at "the cabin" in rural Wisconsin, with seven other kids, six other adults, some dogs, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree. Now, I think it's pretty funny that they call their lake property a cabin, because that's not what it is. Cabins are made of logs and have no running water. Michael's family owns a big house on a lake, with several bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms, 2 televisions, and an air hockey table. (Oddly, I remember that the Michiganders that I grew up with called their large vacation homes "cottages." What's up with that?).

But still, that's an awful lot of people sitting inside watching the flood coverage on TV. Fortunately, efforts were underway to build the world's most delicious vegan Barbie cake. When time came to parcel out slices of Barbie's sugary skirt, the kids argued about who was going to lick the frosting off the now-naked doll. Party games have certainly become more exciting since I was young!

I explained to the family that hanging out in the house sure was fun, but that I had blog fans to entertain. I needed to experience some of the culture of this part of the country, to get a feel for the people and their interests. Michael's father wrinkled his brow and scratched his head, and Michael's sisters looked perplexed. But this is not a group that says no to a challenge. We put on some warm coats and headed out into the rain in search of something Wisconsin-y.

And here's where we ended up:

Now this is my kind of place. We don't really have an equivalent in our city. Sure, we have something that's called a flea market, but it's really a place where hip artists can sell their eco-friendly jewelry. At the Pea-Pickin flea market, you can buy old gas cans:

Or license plates:

Or plastic bull heads:

I asked one of the vendors how he came to sell these types of things. He said that he simply knows people. He scours garage sales and rummage sales and can always find stuff that people will purchase. And lucky for him, I'm not just an anthropologist; I'm also a shopper. Here's what I bought:

For 50 cents, I am now the proud owner of this 1980s vintage choose-your-own-ending teen romance novel (Don't confuse it with its sequel, "Boys! Boys! Boys!"). Here's the book jacket description:

Find your own boyfriends, your own adventures, your own romance -- it's up to you! Every few pages you can make new romance happen -- go back to the beginning and follow the directions until you find just the romance you want. You can spend a romantic year in Venice or move to the breathtaking Colorado mountains! Either way, you'll meet more boys than you've ever dreamed of! Will you go on a moonlight gondola ride with Marzio, a gorgeous Italian artist...climb a sky-high mountain with fun-loving Russell...or explore ancient Italian castles with dark, handsome Dario? No matter what you decide, that special boy is waiting for you. And you can always start a new story...until you find your own true love!

I haven't read it yet, but I think I'd go with Marzio. This book brings back memories of that Intro to Women's Studies class I took in college, where I wrote a research paper comparing teen romance novels to adult romance novels. Seriously. I even got an A minus (Thanks for all that tuition money, Mom and Dad!).

Anyway, the flea market filled my soul, but it didn't fill my stomach. So I asked, "Where does one go to combine wholesome recreation with good local food?" The answer: the bowling alley. The big gaggle of us (minus the dogs) headed out for a competitive game of bumper bowling and some hot plates of cheese curds:

In general, cheese curds baffle me. Who wants to eat something that's called a curd? But you know what, they really hit the spot when you embarrass yourself in front of a large crowd of people. Here's what happened. I was losing, and I thought that a lighter bowling ball might help improve my score. I decided to try out a kids' ball, which is about half the weight of the lightest adult ball. Smiling at my own genius, I put my thumb and fingers in. Then I got into position, whipped my arm back, and....spun around in a violent circle. The ball would not come off my fingers. It was completely stuck. I inspired a whole lot of laughing, and I suppose it was only fair that I could entertain Wisconsin after Wisconsin had given so much to me. But still, bring on those curds, man. I had some pride to mop up.

The next day, we headed back to the city to prepare ourselves for a trip to the Minnesota State Fair. I know you're on the edge of your seat to hear about that, but you'll have to come back next time. Part 2 is on its way.