voyageurs national park

Have you ever done something that sounded so cool in theory, then ended up being totally not what you expected, and you would never voluntarily do that thing again but you're still glad you did it in the first place?

Yeah.

Way back at the beginning of the year, when I was stuck in the absolute purgatory known as recovery from foot surgery, I did the thing I do every time I have a bad day (or a good day, or really any kind of day in between): I started planning an imaginary vacation. And since Voyageurs is the closest national park that we hadn't visited yet, I started looking there. And then I made shocking discovery, which I texted to Mike in all caps:

Holli: Mike.

Holli: MICHAEL.

(Mike was in a truck at work, and he saw me all caps his name, and he turned to his coworker and said, "Oh shit. I must be in trouble but I have no idea why.")

Holli: It has come to my attention that you can rent a HOUSEBOAT in Voyageurs National Park and spend days tooling around on the absolutely massive lakes there. [link to the houseboat place]

So at their next break, Mike looked at the link I sent him, and then he shared it with his coworkers, and then they all got very excited and in an uncharacteristic fit of spontaneous decisioning, Mike texted me to BOOK THAT HOUSEBOAT for Memorial weekend. And not being a fool, I hit book with a quickness before he could change his mind.

And now we're back home after three nights on a houseboat on Rainy Lake, having seen lots and lots of the watery parts of Voyageurs but very little of the land (to be fair, Voyageurs is 218,055 acres, and 84,000 of those acres are water; there are 500ish islands, most of which are teeny-tiny so do they even count as land?). And we have learned a few things: 

1. We stink at fishing (final score Mike + Hols 0, fish infinity). It's fun tho. There's a possibility that using poles and lures that are literally older than we are contributed to this, but all the other people we came across had no luck either, so maybe it wasn't just our failure.

2. There is no amount of bug spray and no set of screens secure enough to ward off the black flies and mosquitoes of northern Minnesota. I wear shoes literally every waking hour (I have to since I had surgery, ugh I hate it) and we wrapped up in several layers of blankets during the cold nights, and STILL I have bites between my toes. And everywhere else.

3. Driving around on a boat is great, but spending every single hour on one is maybe not our thing. The houseboat spots are on the tiny islands, so no place to hike etc. There is a bike trail that I really wanted to ride, and we even schlepped our bikes all the freaking way up to the Canadian border in anticipation, but alas, there was just no way to make it work logistically, so the bikes had to stay in the car while we were out on the boat, and there wasn't time after we docked.

4. If you're going to try to run a cpap on a marine battery using an adapter, you might want to test it before you boat out to a spot, tie up your boat, eat dinner, and watch the sun go down late. Whoops.

5. Did I mention the bugs? Seriously, I need to invest in some of those electronic bug catcher things before we go anywhere else.

Overall, it was a really interesting experience. Mike learned how to drive a houseboat and navigate nautical maps and tie up at each spot for the night! I was an adequate copilot! Also I read five entire books because there wasn't much else to do. And that was actually really nice. We have so much to do each day that it feels like we never slow down and take a breath, so having three days to just hang out together, with nowhere to go and no responsibilities, was a real luxury. And listen, I'm not saying we would never go back to Voyageurs. I think we would! It's just that instead of staying on a houseboat, we would plan a land-based vacation and maybe rent a pontoon for a day to go tooling around like we did at Pictured Rocks. I think that would be an excellent vacation.

BONUS CONTENT: While we were gone, Henry put all that aggrieved youngest child energy to use by starting to call Liam and Max "lil bro." It makes them SO MAD. Or maybe I should say "Oh no, Lil Bro is PRESSED."

happy 80 to barb!

 To celebrate Barb's milestone birthday, we all got together in the private room at Angeli's, her favorite restaurant. Erin made the arrangements and even talked them into serving her favorite dish, which had been retired from the menu. Despite some technical difficulties getting the slide show to work (I have been scanning old family photos to make a digital archive for years now, and it was finally time to put them to use!) we had an absolutely lovely evening, filled with laughter and surprises.

Barb was thrilled to have Mike and Johnny and the grandkids there (and I guess me and Erin, haha), and her brother Ken and nephew Aaron flew in from Colorado for the occasion, which was a real treat for us all. Especially for Mike, who adores Uncle Ken and loves any chance to catch up with Aaron. Anyway, the wine flowed freely, the food was delicious, and the conversations were lively. I'm so glad we were able to do this for her.

Happiest of birthdays, Barb! Here's to many more celebrations!

national junior honor society: henry edition

It's Henry's turn to get inducted into the National Junior Honor Society! His hard work is paying off, and we couldn't be prouder. He chose to be pinned by his sixth-grade social studies teacher, Mrs. Gillard. Mike, Max, and I attended the ceremony, and Liam was with us in spirit and via Snapchat. Oh the wonders of modern technology!

hot springs national park

 Mike had Good Friday off for some reason (why?) so we took advantage of the long weekend to make a quick trip to Hot Springs National Park. In the process, we visited states number 45 and 46 on my list and 47 and 48 (I think) on Mike's list. We're so close! 

We headed out Thursday after work and got to the airport with plenty of time to spare. Way more time than we needed, as it turns out, because our flight was delayed by more than an hour. We staggered into Memphis a little after 1 a.m., with me wearing a walking boot to protect my foot. After a LOOOOONNNG walk to the rental car, we discovered that we had been assigned a truck, which was a little exciting for Mike because he had wondered what this truck (Toyota Tacoma, fancy edition) was like to drive. Don't worry, he got plenty of time to evaluate it. 

After getting a few hours of sleep, we got up bright and early Friday morning and made the three-hour drive to Hot Springs. Our first stop was the Superior Bathhouse Brewery, the only one of its kind in a national park -- they brew their beers and root beer from water from the hot springs. The plan was to get there at 11 when the brewery opened, but since we were so late getting into Memphis, we opted to sleep a little later, and we got there around noon instead. 

Friends, we must have been under a lucky star that day because we accidentally timed everything exactly right. We opted to sit outside in the beer garden, so there was no wait. The trade-off to that is that they only have a limited menu out there, but I got an amazing mac n cheese n bacon smashburger, and Mike got a banh mi smashburger. The weather was perfect, so we were quite happy to not be stuck inside.

And this is where our tale takes a turn because in addition to burgers, we decided to get the beer bath -- sample sizes of all 18 beers they make. This was fine for Mike, who is used to drinking beer on the daily. But that's not really the case for me. I might have a drink once a year? Some years not at all! But I was already drunk with the freedom of not being stuck in the house, so I was all in on this beer tasting experience. We tried every single one! Most of them were pretty good, but there were a few that we could barely get down. Mike took tasting notes, which started out nice and concise, but got increasingly nonsensical, especially as I started to get tipsy and steal his phone to include random observations about the music (1980s classics, highly approve), the food, the day, and anything else that struck my fancy.

Having thusly fortified ourselves, we took our tipsy selves to our next stop: the bike rental place. I had reserved rental bikes for a couple hours thinking that was a good way to explore the park without stressing my foot too much. I was right, and I now want to explore every single park by bike until the end of days.

A word about this park: If you're looking for nature, you won't find much of it here. In fact, we rode around from spring to spring ... and all we found were drinking fountains. Almost all of the springs are capped off to feed the bath houses -- not to mention the thirsty masses who come to fill up their giant jugs with the healing waters. Mike was inadvertently befriended by one such fella, who was busy filling up his 14 five-gallon jugs with spring water and was happy to tell Mike all about it in great detail. Freaky people out here, I tell you.

Anyway, we eventually made our way to one of the two (only two!) actual hot springs in the park, and it was ... nice. It didn't smell like sulfur, and it was tucked away in this little park area in the middle of Bathhouse Row. 

So that was our Friday. We had pizza for dinner, and it was pretty tasty, but I'm not the pizza expert in this family, so I defer to Mike to tell you all the ways it wasn't "real" Chicago-style pie.

Saturday morning I woke Mike up bright and early to drop me off at Buckstaff Bathhouse, because I figured I should get the entire "healing waters" experience, just like they did it in 1912 when this place opened. And you know what? I was not prepared.

I have only recently gotten my first professional massages, and those have been in a medical context rather than a leisure context. So I really had no idea what to expect from this place. I'm glad I got there early, around 7:30 a.m., because by the time they officially opened at 8, the line stretched out the door and all the way down and onto the sidewalk. There was only one group in line before me, though: four ladies from Texas there for an annual pilgrimage. They were awfully nice and let me ask them a million questions and imprint on them like a giant duckling to get through the registration process.

On their advice, I got the deluxe bathing package, then hopped on an old-timey elevator complete with attendant, and up we went to the ladies' floor (yes, separate floors by gender). I undressed and put all my clothes in a locker, and put the key on a rope around my neck for the duration. Then an attendant wrapped me in a sheet, and I was off to the first stop: the bath. It was a 20-minute soak in hot spring water, plus a cup of hot spring water to sip like you would coffee or tea. After that, the attendant led me to lay down on a table, cocooned in towels soaked in the hot spring water, and with ice chips and cold spring water to keep me from completely overheating.

And that's when it got real weird.

The next stop was the steam cabinet, this utterly bizarre device in a marble stall. The idea is to sit inside the cabinet with only your head sticking out, while your body gets a steam treatment. Except it turns out that I'm too tall (especially by 1912 standards!) for a ladyperson, so they couldn't close the top gates without hitting my shoulders. So instead they just closed the stall door and steamed me, head and all. 

And after THAT came the sitz bath. Now listen, I would very much like to know who dreamed this treatment up. WHAT ancient person was like "I would like to fold myself basically in half and sit in a giant toilet and soak only my nethers in boiling water and see what happens." Seriously, what was the thinking there?? 

But anyway, I dutifully soaked my nethers, and then it was off to the full-body massage, which was really nice. Then I went back and got dressed again before the final stop, a paraffin hand treatment. Again, I wonder who thinks these things up. Was that person just sitting around one day and dreaming up scenarios? And if so, what led them to think of filling a crock pot with hot wax, then dipping your hands in there five times like you're making a candle in ye olden days but with your hands as the wick, then wrapping the whole mess up in some oven mitts until it hardens enough that you can peel it off like a snake shedding its skin? Actually, this one kind of makes sense. I've made dipped candles at Connor Prairie before, and I can see how maybe one time some hapless pioneer maybe accidentally dipped her hand in the hot wax, then decided it would be less messy to just wait until it dried to peel it off, and then discovered that wow her hand was a lot softer and felt pretty nice after that. So I'll give the paraffin my seal of approval, but that sitz bath is still on my ... sitz list, if you will.

And that, friends, marked the end of both my bathhouse experience and our trip to Hot Springs. Mike picked me up, and we went back to the hotel and packed up, then headed back toward Memphis. We went into Mississippi for a late lunch of delicious BBQ, then checked into our hotel for our final night. By this time, we were kind of wiped out, so we got some snacks from the hotel front desk, and that's what we had for dinner. Whee!

Sunday morning our flight home was uneventful, and the day was clear and bright, so I got a spectacular view of the city when we landed. AND we made it back in time to go to my sister's house for Easter dinner. All in all, a very good weekend!

the spring break that wasn't

Friends, we had such big plans. 

Liam, Max, and I were planning a trip to New England to knock a couple more states off my list (I'm determined to visit all 50 by the time I'm 50!) and do some exploring. I signed us up for a glassblowing class, an eagle-spotting river cruise, and an afternoon of axe throwing — all things I can realistically do even with my walking limitations. I planned a whole morning's worth of a game I called Hit or Miss, where I give them a short phrase and they decide whether it's a place they want to see (hit) or skip (miss). I had it all figured out.

And then it started snowing, and all the flights got canceled, and all the plans did too.

So instead of taking two days off plus an actual weekend, I ended up working all four days. Which was nice because it got me ahead in a big project that I can't wait to get off my desk, but not so nice because, well, I was working instead of off having fun somewhere with two of my favorite people. 

But don't cry too much for me. On Saturday afternoon, Mike and I took a little jaunt to Granger, where I got a new bike — my first new bike in 22 years! I took a test ride in the snow and driving wind, with my eyes watering and my fingers frozen, and it was SO COMFORTABLE. I'm in love, and I cannot wait for it to warm up so I can start riding more regularly again. (Did I *need* a new bike? No, the one I have is in great shape for having been ridden for 22 years. BUT it's a mountain bike, and as I've gotten older, it's gotten less and less comfortable for me to ride. The new bike is a cruiser with a step-through, meaning it's a lot easier to get on/off, and it's a much better design for me ergonomically. And it's not like I'm out here riding on mountain bike trails. Paved paths all the way, baby!)

Aside from that, it's been a super quiet spring break season. Liam had a week off, then Max and Henry had a week off, and Mike and I had no weeks off. Some news of note: 

Liam got inducted into Alpha Lambda Delta Phi Eta Sigma, an honors frat with way too many Greek letters that our cousins Kelsey and Emma also belong to. 

Max got his SAT scores back, and he was THRILLED to have matched (and even exceeded) Liam's score from the first time he took it. Listen, I'm not in favor of them constantly comparing themselves to each other, but I must imagine that when you spend your whole life hearing about how smart your big brother is, it's great to get some validation of your own big brain. FOR THE RECORD, I never doubted you, Max. I've always known how smart you are!

Max also got his first flat tire over break, and Mike and Liam had to drive to Culver's in the snow to help him deal with it. Whee!

Henry is busy filling out his application for National Junior Honor Society.

How did we end up with such smarties? We have no idea. But whether it's genetics, nature, nurture, or just plain luck, we'll take it. 

Also, I finished scanning in the Fort photo archives, and Mike stubbornly refused to let me share on social media any pictures of his starring role as King Molar in his third-grade production of WONDERFUL TEETH. Plus my niece Elsie is an exceptionally fast learner and has figured out how to work the stacking cups I got her. Clear early signs of brilliance.

week 12

 I have officially graduated from post-surgery follow-up visits! It's partly because I'm just at the end of the postsurgical period (which is 90 days), partly because the doctor is very happy with how my recovery is progressing, and partly because the doctor left on maternity leave the day after my visit last week. Naturally, I followed that visit by immediately Doing Too Much and making my foot start hurting in new and exciting ways. And by Doing Too Much, I mean that I drove to and from my appointment, walked into and out of my appointment, and had the audacity to stop at CVS on the way home. That's all it takes these days.

But don't worry, I've learned my lesson and I'm taking things very (some might say excruciatingly or even frustratingly) slowly. I had an appointment on Friday, and I wore the boot there so I wouldn't overdo it. I've been compressing and elevating and following all instructions. This morning, I rode my stationary bike for 5 minutes, and while my foot is sore, everything seems to be intact, so that's a start. 

Meanwhile, life goes on. Max went skiing for the first time over Presidents Day weekend, and he had tons of fun on the slopes with our cousin James and the rest of the Interact Club. By coincidence, the next day Erin took the kids to the same ski resort, and Jesse ended up breaking his leg. Dang!! We still got to meet up with them all to celebrate Max and Miles's birthdays, which was really fun. At the end of this week, Liam comes home for spring break, and it will be really nice to have him around for a while. Of course, they couldn't all have the same spring break week, so Max and Henry will be on break the week after that. Stay tuned because Liam, Max, and I are going to embark on a little adventure.

max at seventeen

 How is it possible that it's been so long since I've done a dedicated Max birthday post? Max, when you're older and looking back and reading this, just know that we did in fact celebrate YOU every year on your birthday. We had cakes with lots of chocolate, had your faves for dinner, and did all the usual singing and candle rituals.

And we've been proud of you every single day of every single year. 

Our Max has grown into a fine young man indeed. He has always been happy to travel with me, whether we're taking a spring break trip or just heading to the antique mall the next town over, and he's been equally happy to help me without complaint during this exciting time of physical challenges. He has worked at Culver's since last summer, and he rarely complains about that either. 

This year has meant a lot of firsts for Max. He got his license, went through the full cycle of his first romantic relationship (no, I'm not offering the details for posterity!), and started learning how to balance work and school responsibilities with a healthy social life and plenty of hermit time in his room. He remains patient with everyone in the world except for Henry, though he did reluctantly admit to me recently that Henry has become "aight" in his book. (If you're not a teenager, that means "satisfactory or acceptable; all right.") High praise indeed!

I can see so clearly the man he is becoming and how little he needs us anymore, and it makes me so very proud. I can't lie, though -- I will remain thankful to my dying day for every single time he comes sauntering into my office and plops down on my stationary bike (lately, my scooter) to tell me about his day at school or what he has planned with his friends. I am not a person who believes there is any single metric by which to define "good parenting" (believe me when I tell you that I think we're all just out here doing our best), but if I had to pin it down, I would say that a good indicator is that your children WANT to talk to you, that they trust you with what's happening in their lives and know that you will respect what they say and offer your support. And Max does this all the time. It's not because he needs my approval; it's just because I am a person he wants to talk to. I treasure that more than I can ever express.

making noodles with James for Jeffirs Christmas

Right now, Max is working through something we all have to face: what to do with his life. He's starting to really think about what he wants to study in college, and what sort of job he wants to get. Even more fundamentally, he's thinking about what he wants from a job. Does he want just a way to make money, because his sense of self-worth doesn't depend on what funds the rest of his life? Or does he want to do something he's really passionate about and has a real affinity for? (I say this with no judgment, because Max has one parent in each camp, and there's no right answer, only the answer that most applies to the person answering the question.) He's thinking about where he might want to go to college too. I don't think he wants to follow Liam to go to Purdue, and that's totally fine. No matter what, he will make his own way, and we will be there to cheer him on.

frozen hair during a cold snap

But for now, Max, my wish for you is to enjoy this time to the fullest. You probably don't fully realize it, but right now you're in the best of both worlds. You've got a good place to live, good friends, a car to drive, and disposable income -- without any of the pesky responsibilities that come with being an adult. Those will come in time, and sometimes they'll knock you on your ass, so live it up now while you're standing tall, face forward to the future.

We love you.