A Real Vacation

I traveled with my niece Lexi and my nephew’s brother Ben (I’ll let you figure that one out) to Alma, Wisconsin to visit my brother Dave. We met up with my sister Jo, her husband Matt, their two daughters Jacqueline and Abby, and a young lady from Spain. My brother and I were a little confused as to who the girl from Spain was.

While we were there, Dave frequently asked the nieces if they had ever been on a real vacation before. He doesn’t consider being served frozen smoothies poolside at a resort a real vacation. A real vacation is where you get to work for free.

I can’t say the vacation got off to an auspicious start. Somehow, I ended up at a mall. Specifically, the Mall of America. Even worse, at an amusement park in the Mall of America. With my own kids 1400 miles away, I kept thinking “What am I doing here?” After a while, we started moving the kids along, but Lexi was disappointed that the shopping was over. I told her we would keep an eye out for stores that she wanted to go into on our way out. Wouldn’t you know we came across a Justice? I’m not sure what is worse – being at an amusement park in a mall or at a Justice in a mall. The two little girls spent their souvenir money for the week in those first few hours.

The vacation picked up after that. Activities included counting hundreds of deer at dusk, four wheeling, target shooting, riding in the back of a pickup, swimming in the Mississippi, eating ice cream at Nelson’s, wine tasting at a local winery, hay bale jumping, playing a mean game of Monopoly (the Spanish girl won), watching multiple instructional deer videos on VHS, and taking in some very beautiful views.

And of course doing some work.

Dave and Matt did some bushwhacking, put up a tree stand or two, installed some deer fencing, found some tools that they had lost in their travels, cleared a dead animal out of the engine of the 1987 pickup, hauled the 1987 pickup to the end of the driveway (an offer was received within a few hours), and tried (unsuccessfully) to cut down some trees – the chain saw died.

Jo and I “redecorated” with what we had on hand, which included a couch from the 1970’s and the pink daybed from my house. We hauled stuff up, down, and across.  We actually worked quite well with each other, and we were so proud of what we accomplished. However, because we were so anxious to get going, we didn’t take “before” pictures, so it’s a little hard to convey how much better the presentation is with the “after” pictures. So you will have to take our word for it.

The kids were responsible for planting apple trees. Dave told them they were going to work until they were crying and had blisters and couldn’t take it anymore. And then they were going to work some more. They actually all worked hard and got the trees planted and watered.

After working, Dave told everyone to get showered two at a time. The little ones went one step further by not closing the shower curtain and having water from the upstairs shower provide water for those showering downstairs.

Of course, the kids had their moments. The younger two bickered like only 8-year-old best friends can. And the two older ones bickered like only a teenage boy and a teenage girl who are unrelated can – with as much physical contact as they think they can get away with.  At one point, when Jo and Matt were off visiting his relatives, Dave came to get me outside and said, “Mich, come in and separate those two.” At first, I thought he was talking about the younger two. Then I realized he was talking about the other pair. It struck me as funny all these kids being left with Uncle Dave and Auntie Mich of all people.

Who knows what the very lovely young lady from Spain thought of all this. She went from spending a couple weeks with a vegan family in Charlotte to being served venison sausage as an appetizer in Alma. I never did call her by her name (Tanit) because I was afraid of mispronouncing it. My brother had no problem bellowing it out, but I don’t think he ever actually got it quite right. She tried to correct him a couple times, but then gave up. At one point, Matt (the brother-in-law with the non-Italian friends in Florida) told her Andres should have made the trip with us and that she would have liked him. Because Spain and Mexico are so close.

On our way back to the airport, we stopped in Red Wing for caramels at Knudsen’s. This conversation transpired:

The owner, “Where are you from?”
My brother, “Massachusetts. North Carolina. Spain. All over!”
The owner, “What brings you to Red Wing?”
My brother, “The caramels!”

What brought us to Alma? I’m not sure, but I hope it brings us back.

More photos here.