Tag Archives: travel

Family Vacay 2010: a tour of the house

This post is ambitiously inaugurating a new category called “Home & Kids.” Um, so I don’t exactly have kids. Right. But I darn well plan on blogging about them anyway! If I feel like it. Or at least begging my pregnant sister to blog about her child and her extensive research on cloth diapers–hello, Heidi? Hello? And “Home,” well, I’m not exactly a designer or the best decorator/home-maker you’ll ever encounter, so don’t expect awesome tutorials on how to refurbish your deck with your own two hands. For that, you need to read my friend Jenny’s blog instead. However, I do plan on talking about our much loved leftovers tracking device, as well as our system of glass bottle storage. I’ll do what I can. Oh, and both my sisters have mad decorating and home-making skills. And my mom has personally remodeled every home she’s lived in. So maybe I can blackmail them into participating . . . hmmm, we’ll see what delectable and threatening materials I can dig up in the family albums that Mom so innocently left with me on her last visit to Chicago. Hah!

Anyway, moving back to the central point: a brief photo tour of the lake house we stayed at outside of Boulder Junction, Wisconsin for Family Vacay 2010 a couple weeks ago. Most of these were taken within 30 minutes of arriving, before the dozen occupants had “made themselves comfortable” so to speak.

First, there was a little guest house. I completely forgot to photograph the interior, but that’s where my parents and my husband and I stayed. There was a main room, 2 bedrooms, and a little bathroom. A few mosquitoes and spiders tried to share the space with us. “We’re just tiny guys! There’s plenty of room for all of us to live together!” they cajoled. And then I smashed them with a kleenex. And obliterated them with a paper towel. And squished them with my shoe.

Death and vacation. Vacation and death. I’ve got something philosophical brewing here, I can just feel it.  However, I will strategically withhold my deep and academic thoughts about Man versus Mosquito until someone out there decides to give me free money and the title of “Dr.”

We mostly all hung out at the main house, a glorious multistory paradise of fun, laughter, and infectious disease. Please read this post to learn how to most effectively share your particular sickness with your entire extended family–it’s been proven to work, or your money back!

Wait, what money?

If there’s money changing hands, it’s coming this way. Just so we’re clear.

What a house. Oh my, what a house. I mean, last year’s location was great, don’t get me wrong–but there is no comparison between the two. The clean tap water in this house versus the undrinkable rust water in the previous year’s house made that decision for me. The awesome kitchen this year made that decision for me. The comfy leather couches and thick clean rugs made that decision for me. And the 4 bathrooms this year versus the 2 bathrooms last year . . . well, that just cemented my blossoming relationship with this house.

As soon as you entered, to the left was a little coatroom/mud room. Very convenient for stashing life vests, helmets, and other outdoor paraphenalia. That’s Uncle Brian through the window. It looks like he’s studying a map. But why? We had just arrived!

Oooooh . . . maybe he was hiding out avoiding the work.

Cause it’s not like he singlehandedly got the sailboat in the water and around part of the lake to our dock, bicycling back to get the truck. Or unloaded any kayaks or bicycles. Or made the meal that evening with Aunt Kathy and washed dishes afterwards. Or drove the truck that didn’t have air conditioning by himself there and back, while the rest of us rode in comfort. That Uncle Brian . . . always looking out for himself.

Personally, I contributed to the move-in work by taking all these pictures. Hey, this camera can get a little heavy–it’s no walk in the park, OK?

Check out this awesome livingroom:

And the view was nothing to be frowned at either:

Yeah, it’s exactly like the view from our Chicago apartment.

Not.

We found a little nook for the games. That was a top priority.

Right off the living area was this wonderful little breakfast nook/sunroom. We actually turned this into Erica’s bedroom for the week.

And here is the view from the sunroom . . .

The kitchen was gorgeous. Many delicious things were cooked there–stuffed tomatoes, cheesy spinach bread, Thai peanut noodles, paella, grilled chicken, wild rice, Shepherd’s Pie, Pain à l’Ancien, Chili-Cheese Etouffé . . . oh, and how could I forget. The best pie ever, filled with raspberries and nectarines, courtesy of my sister Erica. She has promised to share her recipes on this blog, and on that day the deliciousness that she unleashes will bring about World Peace. I’m convinced.

Let’s take a closer look at that chandelier.

It makes me feel like I need to go hunt some big game.

In fact, if you’re good, I’ll do a tutorial on how to make this very chandelier, starting with the hunting and killing of . . . of . . . a, um, deer? Or antelope? Or stag? Which one has horns that look kind of like that? Or wait–is the chandelier supposed to look like branches and twigs? Maybe it’s not a murderous chandelier after all. It’s hard to tell–trees, animals, branches, horns–it’s all just one big mush of nature to me.

There were so many woodsy details in the house. Things I would never buy myself, but that gave the house a delightful, vacationy feel. I don’t think there was a single light fixture that didn’t evoke some animal, large or small.

There were 2 large bedrooms (though I only photographed one) and beautiful tiled bathrooms . . .

 There was a lovely basement, which hosted some hilarious Wii activity on rainy evenings. And, um, on some non-rainy evenings too. Nature and technology–they don’t have to be enemies!

My sister Erica led the way to the lower level.

The basement was practically a second livingroom.

It also had a laundry room/bathroom off to the side. And with a dozen people sharing the space, each extra bathroom was a golden nugget of delight in our crowns. Yes, on this vacation everyones’ bodily functions were comfortably accomodated. In case you were wondering. Not that I have any ‘bodily functions’ myself, of course.

 And of course, the staple piece of art–a picture of wolves roaming about in the moonlight. It wouldn’t be the North Woods without one of these on the wall. If I were a true believer, I would also own a T-shirt with these selfsame wolves howling at the night sky. Believe me, there are ample opportunities to obtain such a thing in your choice of tourist traps, if you’re into the whole wolves-on-a-shirt scene.

Outside the house was the dock, home of both the sailboat and a spontaneous photo shoot in which the beauty of my sister and cousins shone forth like the sun. Photos coming . . . next week? We’ll see.

Luke quickly discovered a grill:

. . . and a firepit, where this would soon happen:

There was plenty of room for the bikes, kayaks, and sailboat.

 

I may or may not have neglected to ride a bike a single time–in fact, I kind of forgot until the last two days when it got rainy. That’s why the musculature of my legs isn’t quite as developed by now as I had hoped–it kills me to be just one bike-ride away from amazingly powerful and attractive thigh muscles.

However, though I didn’t make it to biking, not a single day passed that I didn’t venture out on the lake in a kayak. There was so much to explore! And in the evening, especially after it rained, the water was like glass.

What a great vacation. There’s so much to say about it still, and so many fun pictures to share, but as they say, the man who fights and runs away will live to fight another day.

Do I hear an “amen” from the crowd, or is that the caffeine ringing in my ears?

Have a lovely Tuesday everyone!

Goodbye my friends. It's been great.

This post has two parts. Part 1 was drafted last week when I discovered I was about to be cut off from the internet. Part 2, I just now wrote. Please don’t be confused.

PART 1

Well folks, as I mentioned in my previous post, we’re going to a house in the woods for Family Vacay 2010. And now for the breaking news . . . this house does not have internet. Therefore, the steady stream of posts I have been feeding to the blogmonster since I started this little shebang 10 weeks ago are about to be abruptly and completely cut off.

For the record, I did plan on taking a rest from writing new posts, but I had carefully prepared enough of them in advance to cover my bases while I was gone–book reviews on “Peace Like a River,” Diane Mott Davidson’s mysteries and the Flavia de Luce series. Recipes for Sage Mushroom Pasta and Penne Rosa. A post on the amazingness of Blokus. How to make a mosaic at home. Meditations on some of the psychological intricacies of a certain young freak at 7 years of age. I had a whole arsenal ready to go. The idea was that every morning I would simply boot up the Mac, hit “publish,” and then return to the world of nature, trees, etc.

However, it was not meant to be. And it’s all probably for the best. The arsenal of posts can be unleashed in the following weeks. Nobody is going to cry when it turns out I haven’t updated my blog, I realize this. And it’s dubious that the blogmonster is smart enough to identify my exact location and attack me in the night. I picture him as a large furry beast that has claws and about 100 jagged teeth, but is also kind of adorable. Like maybe after frightening you into tears, he’d give you a hug of comfort and contrition. Who knows, maybe he will track me down and I’ll take him kayaking or biking. And then I’ll help him brush his myriad of teeth–that would be a satisfying project.

In my spare time I sketched various possible incarnations of the blogmonster. In the above vision, he is Incarnation #3.

The thing about me you should know is that I’m an all or nothing type of person. I don’t always like it, but I am, and I definitely hold my Mom’s side of the family responsible for those evil little genes. They are project people, not maintenance people (um, extended family, forgive me for generalizing here a little to make my point). The kind of people who don’t get rid of a shirt here, a blouse there, or a dress that’s a little too small there–it accumulates and accumulates until one day the closet is simply exploding with clothes and it’s time for a massive overhaul, for which all of the relatives descend. This may or may not have happened a couple summers ago in our grandmother’s closet. I mean, closets plural. Rooms, more like it. And an attic. Pictures may or may not ever be forthcoming.

To use an example from my own inherited habits, let’s take scrapbooking–I neglect my scrapbook all year long, but when the fall comes I have a massive scrapbook updating week in which I order hundreds of pictures from walmart.com, buy new supplies, and dedicate myself wholly to the process of organizing the past year of photographs into 12×12 memory book pages. It can’t happen month to month–it has to happen all at once, in one big bang of pictures, sticky tape, scissors, etc. You don’t want to hang out in our livingroom when that’s going on.

Or we can take the guitar. When I stopped majoring in guitar, picking it up casually became increasingly difficult, if not impossible. It was just too painful to go from playing really well to being mediocre, so I simply stopped–it makes me quite sad when I really start thinking about it. And this is not by design–there’s some kind of genetic hoobedihabbiddy thingy going on.

Is this making any sense?

Do you still love me just the same?

What I’m trying to say is . . . it’s hard for me to do things halvsies. It’s all in, or all out.  And I am about to be forced to go from “all” on this blog project I have engaged in to what feels like “halvsies” by neglecting it for 1 week.

I’m sure this is going to be good for me. After all, I can’t keep blogging daily until I’m 85 years old, right? So it’s best that I rip off the chains of my obsessive nature and find a healthy balance in my blogging life. Healthy. Yes. That sounds . . . yes.

Part 2

And here’s for the breaking, breaking news. Yesterday evening as I was talking to my blogging friend Carrie, she said “You know, Jenna, you can schedule posts to be published at a certain time”–meaning, it could all happen automatically while I was gone! Based on everything you’ve just learned about my inner workings, I should have rejoiced. Now I could command my little robot posts to do their work in my absence. Talk about magic. However, I did not rejoice. And that’s because in addition to being a project person, I am also an extreme planner. And I had finally reconciled myself to not blogging after a severe psychological battle. I won that battle, and I planned to stop posting, so now . . . I’m not going to post! What about all that talk about health I had drafted when I first learned of the lack of internet? Was I just going to delete that and move on? No! I was forced to go to “Plan B”, and now I’m not going to be bamboozled into going back to “Plan A” just because the internet is more magical than I ever thought it was!

And that’s where I stand.

Um, I think.

Am I going to regret this forever? Am I proving myself to be inconstant, like women are said to be in that Italian song “La Donna E Mobile”?

Even the fact that I’m asking these questions tells me: it’s time to let go. For 5 business days.

Anyway, (sniff sniff), this isn’t goodbye forever (sniff sniff). I’ll be back, like it or not, for better or for worse, come hell or high water, be there or be square, something about the dogs coming home, and I’ll be bringing back stories, pictures and tidbits that I will blog about relentlessly.

Cheerio. I’ll kayak away my tears.