And I would drive 1,000 miles...

Above the Mississippi River

Hello friends and welcome back for another installment of the Gownezio blog. This has been a very interesting couple of days, and I apologize for being away. The weather has been absolutely turrible, and between that, construction, and driving through major cities, my secondary role as blogger has had to take a back seat to driving the camper.

The whole gang at Greenfield Village

We spent Saturday and Sunday evenings in my hometown of Monroe, Michigan. We had dinner with my mama Saturday night and spent all day Sunday with her at Greenfield Village. 

Iz with the first-ever school bus.

I know I already mentioned this, but it rained more Friday and Saturday and Saturday night than I think I have ever seen. Ever. We woke up Sunday morning and discovered that there was a full-on lake behind our camper. We thought it would be hilarious to put the kids in the kayaks and take some pics of them paddling around in the middle of our campsites. But then we noticed that the campsites' electrical boxes were all underwater.

And it rained hard enough that we discovered that the window in Jerry and Kathy's brand new RV leaks. And so does our roof.

Monday we drove to scenic Milton, Wisconsin. “Hey, what's there?” you may ask. Well, nuthin. But there's a nice campground and our beloved cheese and sausage and wine shop that we always stop at. But the cheese shop IS CLOSED. Permanently. Sad face emoji. So we drove into town, but there is not another cheese shop in town. And we stoppped at the camp store/snack bar and they sell all kinds of ice cream and chicken wings and jalapeno poppers and onion rings and NO STINKIN' CHEESE. C'mon, Wisconsin!!! Whodathunk that you could go to Wisconsin and not find any freaking cheese?!?!? So what did we have for our traditional local evening snack in Wisconsin? Triscuits. And they're not even good for you, even though you want to think that they are. And they definitely don't taste like cheese.

Monday's drive is typically the least favorite of the summer. Driving through Toledo and Chicago and construction and the waiting the waiting the waiting the waiting the waaaaaitiiiiiiiing and and and and and....

And it was cold, and it was wet, again. So we devised a plan while driving that since it was cold and wet and we needed to use up the potatoes and the corn, we would make homemade corn chowder. And then, just as it was ready, the sun came out, blazing down upon us. So despite our first beautiful weather, we had soup indoors. And then time to finally go to the pool for the first time? Cold and damp again.

We have now driven our first 1,000 miles. We made two stops on the way today, first at Effigy Mounds National Monument, and then at the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum in Burr Oak, Iowa. First Effigy Mounds NM: So-called because there are hundreds of these sacred mounds from woodland tribes, many of which are shaped like bears and eagles. The historical/cultural stuff was okay, but the view was what made it memorable for me. Located high on a bluff in the upper Mississippi River Valley, from the lookout you are able to look down this amazing forested canyon with the Mississippi River at the bottom. And see for miles. We hiked our first 2 miles of the trip and, with 400 feet of elevation gain, that counts as a legit hike.

The view from Fire Point, Effigy Mounds National Monument

Kieran is amused.

Gabe is not amused.

Liz apologized while getting dressed this morning and informed me that she was going to be “dressed sensibly” for the hike, if you catch my drift. Meaning that under her hiking shorts she would not be fashionable. That she was done with the fabled, legendary, yet inconvenient hiker's wedgie, and was switching over for the day to granny panties. But even she was rendered distraught by what emerged from the package. “Full coverage” is what it said, but a full circus tent emerged, with enough fabric to cover the designated area, plus torso, shoulders, head, clowns, and trained elephants. Kieran coined a new term: Gigunderwear. But I digress.

As I mentioned, today's second stop was in Burr Oak, Iowa. We all made this side trip for the benefit of Her Grand Majesty the Regal Princess Isabella. And she loved every moment of it. And I'm glad, because that makes me a good daddy. But I will never, ever, EVER get this hour of my life back. First of all, Burr Oak's claim to Laura Ingalls Wilder is tenuous at best. Pa Ingalls worked at this “hotel” for three months when Laura was nine. But IT'S NOT EVEN IN THE BOOKS. She mentioned it in her autobiography, or else nobody would even know she was there! Yes, they've got more rightful claim to their tour than Betsy Ross' family has to theirs (look it up if you don't know what I'm talking about) but.... aside from that, it's just awful. Have been in probably hundreds of museums in my life and this may have simultaeneously been the worst museum and the worst tour. It's like 3^rd graders put the museum together. (“For my project, I knew I had to build a museum about Laura Ingalls Wilder, so I...”) Oo! Oo! Oo! Here's a fiddle! Pa played a fiddle, right?!? Oohhhhhh, and here's a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who knew the Ingalls family, so let's include his stuff!!! And since President Grant was president while Laura Ingalls Wilder lived here, let's put up a picture of President Grant with a handwritten caption that says President Grant was president while Laura Ingalls Wilder lived here. And there was some guy who had a pump organ, so let's have a pump organ. And let's have the mandatory video begin with “Thank you for using the free version of our video editing software. For the full version...” And let's have a tour guide who is 17 (seriously, probably better than 97, which is what you might expect) and so she is incredibly awkwardly nervous with a large tour group. And maybe I'm projecting here, but I felt like she wasn't nervous for the usual reasons, but because she knew how crappy this whole thing was and she was worried we were going to catch on to how crappy it was and revolt. And did I mention it cost $50? I would have paid twice that to have it end. But when we were out, the boys all rewarded ourselves with a delicious smoked meatstick cigar (courtesy of a Wisconsin gas station, unbelievably).

I love it when a plan comes together.

The only other hilarity that I thankfully wasn't part of was Jerry turning the wrong direction in the RV. Husbands, lean in a little closer here. Ladies, um, I think Dancing With the Stars is on. You should go check. Alright fellas, I'm assuming that you know what I'm talking about with that special moment when you are driving with your sweetie in the nav seat and you turn the wrong direction. It just lasts a moment, but in that moment it is like YOU HAVE NEVER DONE ANYTHING RIGHT IN YOUR ENTIRE MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A LIFE and you should just Stop. Wasting. Oxygen. Now imagine doing that in a vehicle so large that you can't turn around for miles and miles and miles. When that happens, it is such an event that we need to talk about it at dinner. And even right now at 8:00 pm. Oh, hello ladies, I didn't see you there.

Did I mention that today we saw a bald eagle on the road eating roadkill? 'Murica.

We sleep in Albert Lea, Minnesota tonight and tomorrow are on the banks of the Missouri River.