Last Night in Town

dah dah dahh Dah. Those of you who listen to Ben Folds Five will understand the connection, but enough of that.

Here I am saying goodbye to Wisconsin, again. This is the first time since leaving for college that I actually want to stay longer then the time I've alloted for myself in my hometown. Maybe my mothers right and I am getting old; or maybe it was the magic of the Amish pancake breakfast that I indulged in that has changed my attitude towards my cheese loving state.

My weekend was lovely. My Dad bought some land in Melrose a few years back, a town so small that gets combined with the nearest small town whenever you hear of it. The only information I had about Melrose-Mindoro before this weekend was that it's school district was always two hours late during winter storms. The radio listed them right after La Crescent, when I would lean in hoping to hear "La Crosse School District" next, and instead get "Melrose-Mindoro, Two hours late." What anyone hoped to accomplish in those extra two hours I will never know.

So, back to my last 48 hours in the rain drenched areas of Wisconsin. The Amish Pancake Breakfast was a highlight, along with the three hour bike ride in the hills that followed. To clarify, when I say "bike ride" I literally mean riding on the back of a motorcycle. It has always confused me why people refer to city biking as a 'ride', a word that invokes an image of enjoyable leisure time in my eyes, instead of the sweaty, leg aching workout it actually it.

Anyway, the back of my Dad's 700-cc Vulcan is in my top five favorite places to be. Sitting behind him I get to see the details of countryside lost in a car. No music for distraction, or awkward silence, it is one of the few places where two people can be enjoying the same thing for over two hours and never say a word. One of the best parts is watching the cornfields line up at just the right angle, so that the lanes they create are perfectly balanced. A racetrack for just a split second, that familiar view takes me back home every time I see it.

Dad took me around where he grew up, to the small ten pew church called Trout Run where he went to Sunday school. It's crazy to realize how close these places were to me growing up and never knowing they existed. That night we had a grand bonfire, one of the great midwestern things that I've really missed since moving to Montana. Living in an Amish farming community has it's benefits I discovered- that was the blackest night and brightest stars I've seen since Colorado.

Back in La Crosse it was time to catch up with old friends, (thank you Sophie and Sam (X2) for reminding me how much I hate scary movies/ love Blue Planet-Deep Sea), and say goodbye to family. My love goes out to all of you, and keep an eye on your mail boxes for exotic postcards. They will be coming your way, in varying degrees of appropriateness.

Well, my mom and I are heading up to Canada for the week. Sleeping Giant Chimney Summit and I have an old score to settle, and this time I am old enough to climb the trail even if it is raining. So there, Mother!

Goodnight.