I'm here. In Wisconsin. At the cottage of my in-laws. I've consumed plenty of beer and beef since arriving on Tuesday evening. I've even had fried cheese curds and a root beer float made with frozen custard - some of the finer things in life, to be sure. The weather has been pretty damn near perfect, too - mostly sunny, warm, low humidity. Wisconsin in the summer is why people suffer through those heinous winters. Of course, I'm not one of those people. I left here in thirteen years ago and haven't looked back. It's only been a few years since my in-laws have stopped asking if we'll ever move back. They must've finally tired of hearing the same response: "No. Never."

But I digress. It's a great place to visit. The girls traveled very well on Tuesday. It was kinda funny because we spent an extra long layover in the Minneapolis airport and Belly ended up being very, very social. She mingled and twirled and worked the crowd (which is usually the Bug's specialty). At one point, she ran away from us and we called for her to come back. She stopped in front of every person seated on the way back until she received some sort of a acknowledgement from them. Then she moved on to the next. It was pretty dang cute, people! Dude joked, "Hi! I'm running for office and I'd appreciate your vote." That's exactly what it was like. The Bug watched from the safety of my knees, stunned by her sister's audacity.

We finally arrived and got to Mimi and Grandpa John's cottage around 10:15pm. Mimi had Meat Dish Supreme waiting for us. That's right - I said Meat Dish Supreme. This is Dude's favorite dish in his mother's repertoire. He ate enough of the artery-clogging concoction for the both of us and I opted to just have some delicious, delicious Riverwest Stein from Lakefront Brewery for dinner. One of us had to act responsibly after all.

It's funny about Wisconsin. Even though we are nowhere near the part of the state in which I grew up, it all kinda looks the same: rolling hills, lots of trees and farms with silos, corn fields, country highways named after every letter in the alphabet. And every time I come back, I get a feeling of anxiousness. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but it's like I'm reminded of all the times I spent driving the back roads in high school, stressing about boys or Mom or something. It also reminds me of a terrible, terrible relationship that I had with a guy some years older than me right before I moved to the bustling metropolis of Milwaukee when I was seventeen. That guy messed me up in a way that is embarrassing to even think about. I loved him way more than I should have and he treated me like total crap. I moved away but still talked to him. I still pined for him. He continued to play me. Even after I started dating Dude, I thought about this guy a lot and
stayed in touch with him. I purposely lost contact with him when I moved to Los Angeles in 1996. And that was that. Until of course we reconnected on MySpace a few years ago. I was immediately reminded of how charming he is - quickly followed by what a jerk he is. ANYWAY. Driving the highways of Wisconsin reminds me of being upset with him and just driving, driving, driving while sobbing instead of going home and letting anyone know what was happening (it was something of a forbidden relationship). It was a pretty miserable time in my life. Thanks for the memories today, Highway J! Ugh. Thank the lord I'm happily married and don't have to date. I don't think I was ever very good at it.

My in-laws are wonderful, generous, loving, Christian folk. They are the epitome of doting grandparents and still treat Dude like he is the returning hero every time he comes home. They are super loving to me. So I have no doubt that I sound kinda bitchy saying that it is always slightly stressful coming to visit. There is always some comment made by Mimi (Dude's mother) that offends me. Additionally, they love to debate politics - which I am loathe to do. Tonight at dinner, John asked Mimi what topic she wanted to open for discussion. I visibly squirmed in my seat. Fortunately, my 11-year-old nephew decided that he wanted to tell everyone about the Allegory of the Cave and his take on Socrates instead. I was able to simply tune out.

Mimi never fails to crack me up, though. I hope when you picture her, you conjure up an image of a modern-day June Cleaver, complete with pearls. That's pretty close. Anyway, she told me yesterday that she has a tough time finding jeans that fit her just right. She was doing some jeans shopping for my a-little-on-the-chunky-side nephew when she realized that the jeans she purchased for him might also work for her. And they did! So she bought herself a pair and what did I think of her Husky brand adjustable-waist jeans? I had to struggle to keep from falling into a fit of giggles but remarked that they looked great. Good lord, peeps. GOOD LORD. There are still three more days here.