It's a treat to meat and greet in the Minnesota mud

The air conditioner hasn't been on—or even thought about—for three straight days. After such a rancidly humid spell of weather, there is truly no better tonic. So let's be clear: Team LOD had a terrific time in the Midwest, home of logic-defying casseroles and tubular, processed meat. (I'm sure someone out in the Upper Flyover saw "Brat Camp" in the TV listings and thought it was a cooking show.)

The only real drawback was all that time in transit. The plane experience, four people in three seats, went about as well as could be expected. (Which is to say pretty goddamn cramped). But we also clocked 1,017 miles in the car, and TwoBert spent around 600 of them resenting his bondage within his little baby bucket. He showed this by giving his signature moan, which is not a cry, per se. It's more of a loud grimace that makes him look and sound like he's just eaten bad sardines.

During the longest leg of our trek, TwoBert woke up and began moaning. Robert put on his Older Brother hat and hoped to soothe him by singing Bob the Builder's theme song. Soon, my wife and I joined in, because those lyrics are tattooed onto our brains for life. It was a lovely family moment, three people hurtling down I-94 and singing the praises of "playing together, like good friends should." And TwoBert was indeed calmed—for approximately 49 seconds, during which he was presumably too busy wondering about the lame-ass troupe of Pollyannas he'd been born into.

When we weren't on our way someplace, we had a ball. We immersed ourselved in Lake Culture, oohing and aahing over the fishing boat's depth-finder and exhibiting the requisite alarm when zebra mussels were found in Lake Mille Lacs. (We didn't even question why it's pronounced "Millacs" or why a lake would be called "Lake 1,000 Lakes.") We went to a colossal family reunion, after which some local cousins invited all 2 billion of us over to their farm for beers and buggy rides. And Robert caught his first fish, a bluegill with the fight of a lion but the size of a Pop-Tart, while Daddy beamed in approval and chomped on a homemade venison jerky (one of the most exalted members of the meat-tube hierarchy).

That's life in Big Ten country: The time passes slowly, the people are incredibly hospitable, and a jerky is just a jerky. I heartily recommend it.

Comments

[anne]

i love that spoiled children are sausages and moaning is bad sardines and fish are pop tarts but jerky is jerky. well done, sir.

[landismom]

Great post. I have a similar story of driving about 17,0000 miles up the Pacfic Coast Highway, while landisdad and I belted out show tunes to our daughter when she was about 9 months old. The things we'll do to keep an infant quiet!

[untitledlife]

People actually travel from NY to MN to vacation? Being a Midwesterner, that boggles my mind. To us, a MN vacation is what you take when you've blown all your money on a new sofa sectional from Slumberland and can't afford to go on the cruise. But you make it sound like good times. Real good times.

[Lindsay]

TwoBert spent around 600 of them resenting his bondage within his little baby bucket.

What a great way to describe that. It's an adorable image somehow.

(I've been reading for a while, but this is my first comment.)

[rwc]

I discovered something amazing last Sunday on a shorter version of your trip. When our 8 mo. old daughter started her moaning I placed my finger in her mouth and for the heck of it I waggled my finger up and down as she started moaning. It made a sound reminiscent of the "Mush Mouth" character on the old Fat Albert TV cartoon. "Waa waa wa waaa wa waa waaa...."

I don't know who was more shocked but my wife and I found it damn funny. It also seemed to distract our daughter that such odd noises were coming out of her own mouth. She's been much more vocal since... Try it - it's worth a laugh.

[Susie]

We've done the same sort of singing. Even resorting to the lame-ass songs his toys have programmed into our brains. "White polar bear in the icy snow, slipping and sliding... away you GO!" Leapfrog bastards.

[LOD]

I'd like the assembled to notice that Lord Google's Ads are now jerky-based. A nice sentiment, but my cousin asserts that it's always better when you shoot it yourself.

[Robotnik]

when we actually have the bollix to travel all together like that (we have a 14 month old), we produce a thirty to forty minute puppet show, complete with stage and lighting design, which runs in a (seemingly) endless loop until we arrive at our destination. Usually Mom takes the brunt (I happily remind her that she was once a theatre major) of it all, but on the rare occasions I'm stuck w/puppeteer duty I am reminded of one of Lorca's more famous lines: "agony...always agony."

[not-for-profit-dad]

Having gone to school in small-town Iowa I can attest to the fact that everyone on the East Coast would be a lot nicer if they were forced to spend 4 years in Iowa. Also, Iowa would probably be a little more interesting if it had all these East Coasters cycling through it quadrennially.

[Robotnik]

Iowa is the new New York

[Scully]

I might be lying if I said that you're vacation sounds so much better than mine as I'm leaving for Paris in 10 hours.

But I'm not. I'd rather do the family thing and having a baby wonder what kind of family he had been born into.

Welcome back.

[angela marie]

Guess what. I'm here because Dooce mentioned you in an online article...boy am I glad she did! I will definitely be back to read more.
Thanks for the entertainment!

[Nancy]

"Casseroles?" you couldn't have been in MN if you use the word "casseroles." Up in the northland we call it "hotdish."

Glad you had a good time in the land of sky-blue waters.

[LOD]

Hey, I'm an East Coaster. That's what makes this fish-out-of-water story so damn charming.

Expecially since it is literally a fish-out-of-water story.