Country Roads, Take Me Home to the Place I Belong!

(Now that you’ve envisioned yourself around a campfire with one too many Coors Light in you, I will tell you this):

Nothing says summer like 55 degrees in Wisconsin!

Okay, maybe it’s going to be a little warmer than that but I am not going to delude myself like last time and pack a bunch of sandals I never got to wear. Even though the calendar will say June, I will not be fooled into thinking it might actually be flip flop weather there. I cannot say, though, that the weather in New York has been much better. In fact, this spring has taken on a very Wisconsin approach to its weather systems. Sweat trickling down your back one day, a chill on your neck the next.

Regardless, I am way excited to be spending a few days in Milwaukee amongst friends, then the weekend at the ole’ homestead in the north woods. It always kills me when people ask me where I’m from because if they are fellow Midwesterners, they usually want to try to figure it out. It goes something this:

"Where am I from? Oh, from a tiny town outside of Green Bay,” I say (because everyone knows the Packers).

Then some dude from Iowa will say, “Oh, I’ve got family from around there.” (when actually his family is from Marinette. He might as well say they’re from the Upper Peninsula, for God’s sake).

“Tell me the name of the town. I bet I know it!”

Suddenly, there’s a challenge at hand and I don’t want any part of it. Yet, I’m forced to be.

And I’ll say, “No really, I don’t think you’ve ever heard of it. I mean, it’s a town of a thousand. And I grew up outside of it. Amongst corn and hay fields!” I am now looking at the ground, hoping dude will just drop it.

But he will be relentless and soon a crowd has formed around us because the suspense is just killing him and finally, my polite disposition will give way and I will try not to snap.

But then finally, completely exasperated, I will squeak out the name of my hometown.

And then a scrunched up brow, a shrug of a shoulders, a swig of a beer, and “Hmm, never heard of it” as he walks away while the big vein on my forehead is almost bursting.

Oh, tangents! All right, time to finish packing. Oh, and my mom just called. She said that they had frost this morning. (Sigh). So much for that one pair of sandals I was rooting for.

Introductions must be made...

I never used to have a problem sleeping. Yet lately, I find myself lying awake at night, a whirlwind of thoughts whizzing through my head. When am I going to find the job that’s right for me? Is living in New York City wise or should I return to the people who know me best, back in Wisconsin? My parents are getting older...are they gonna be all right? Should I adopt as a single woman? Oh crap, did I pay that electric bill???

Perhaps this is why I am perpetually fatigued.

Regardless, there are certain things I strive for in my life:

1) to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps, who traveled the country and completed his 95 years, sustaining himself mostly on pie and coffee.

2) to make the planet a safer and healthier place to live.

3) to help people find peace with one another.

4) to discover peace within myself.

5) to be as lighthearted, fun, and goofy along the way as possible.

I’ve completed pieces of all but Number 4. However, I believe that writing down my thoughts and posing questions to others, while taking the time to find humor in the small things along the way, will lead me to this grand goal. And it sure beats lying awake in my bed at night, slowly making myself crazy (and probably my cat as well who suffers, due to my relentless, anxiety-laden tossing and turning).

Having said that, today I’ll focus on Number 5. I plan to take full advantage of a holiday that is known not only for its solemn respect for veterans, but also for its killer barbecues. I mean, really…how can I begin my quest to inner peace on an empty stomach?

Burgers and potato salad, here I come…