You would think that, on a prolonged odyssey through the Minnesota woods (where the mosquitoes are so big they wear license plates), you would not find a tony interior design studio complete with an espresso bar and free wireless access. And you would be wrong. I have about ten minutes here while the boys are burning off a little pent-up energy and running laps around the car; after a week of drinking dishwater, I have a cup of Ethiopian dark roast and access to e-mail. The world is starting to make sense again.
There's a lot to say about our lake-hopping extravapalooza, too much to go into much detail now. The main story his TwoBert, whose fevers started to spike higher and who greeted a recent morning with a glassy-eyed stupor. We took him to a local hospital, where a very nice and seemingly capable doctor who nonetheless looked a lot like Mortimer Snerd diagnosed a "red-hot" ear infection. TwoBert has been on Zithro for a week and is back to his normal diet of 1) Anything I'm Eating and 2) the crayons provided by all the kid-friendly cafes we've been patronizing. He hasn't had a BM for three days, so we're getting ready for him to crap a wax rainbow.
We are immersed in Lake Culture, and its discussions of frontage and curly-leaf pondweed and Eurasian milfoil. We're also immersed in ourselves, trapped together in our Ford Fusion for hours at a time. This might be having an adverse effect on our relationship as a family. The other day we took a wrong turn and temporarily lost track of wherever the hell we were, and Robert piped up with "Great, Daddy. We're lost ... with you."
And now I must go. I've just been told that the wax rainbow is upon us.