Kayaking date

I suppose stress is a good thing, really.  Because if Greg and I did not feel stressed, busy, and pressed for time...nothing much around here (including a certain dissertation) would get accomplished.  The temptation is just so great:  We are both at home working, the weather outside is gorgeous, there are two kayaks in our garage, and our kids are in school.   Plus, we really like hanging out together.  Do you see the kind of self-restraint we have to practice?!  Which, sadly, isn't too hard because of that thing called stress.

But even the stress couldn't hold us back this week.  Thursday morning we dropped the kids off at school and drove up north to Devil's Lake.  (The kids knew we were going kayaking.  They were, one, relieved that they didn't have to go, and, two, weirded out by the fact their parents have lives during school hours.)

The colors are gorgeous this year.

And the lake was lovely.

We dawdled around the lake, talking and taking in the solitude, sunshine, and cool air.

Soon enough, it was time for this pregnant lady to get out.  (My bladder, my back, and my bum can only take so much.)  Greg had the pleasure of loading the boats back up.

I am very lucky to have such a strong, hard-working husband.  Also, he is my best friend.

We enjoyed the drive home, through the countryside.

Just us.  No backseat commentary about Pokemon or Hannah Montana.

We talked about the baby.  (We're having a baby!!!)

And settled on a middle name.

 And watched the colors go by.

What a nice time.

Why don't we do it everyday?!

Oh, yeah ...

Michigan, too

While we were staying in Eagle River (which I have thus far failed to mention is the snowmobile capital of the world--seriously, it's where the world championships are held), we decided to drive up to into Michigan one evening in search of the mysterious Paulding Light.

So we climbed into the car and said a brief good-bye to Wisconsin.

This was our first venture into Michigan's Upper Peninsula, and, while it was but a teensy tiny taste, I think we got the flavor of the UP--remote and isolated!  Definitely a place to go if you want to get away--because you feel very away indeed.

(It's kind of embarrassing how jittery and nervous Greg and I felt without cellphone service.  I was convinced we were going to hit a deer--they were everywhere in and along the roads!--and what's a person to do with car troubles and no cell phone?!!  Sheesh.  You'd think we'd never been in the wilderness before.  To be honest, we didn't have mobile service in Eagle River, but compared to this part of Michigan, Eagle River felt like Manhattan.  On top of that, I have a feeling the part of the UP we were in is pretty darn well-populated compared to areas even farther north.)

We stumbled upon the headwaters of the Wisconsin River, which felt very exciting for some reason.  (Perhaps because we'd crossed the Wisconsin about 200 times on our drive up to Eagle River.)

Farther north, on a whim, we followed a sign to "Bond Falls," having no idea what we would find at the end of the twisty, winding road.  We found a parking lot and a path, which we followed to this beautiful falls...

It was such a surprise!  I didn't expect anything so big and grand.  The picture definitely doesn't do it justice. The picture only shows about half of the falls, and it's difficult to see how high the falls actually is.  (I was surprised by the elevation change--I didn't know it was possible to have a water fall that high in such a seemingly-flat Midwestern area.)

David and Mary were pretty unimpressed.  Mostly they were cold and scared of the impending dark.


Speaking of the dark...

After dusk we managed to find Robbins Pond Road (thanks to a friendly local) and the crowd of people gathered to watch the mysterious Paulding Light.  The kids were not excited to get out of the car, but we bribed them with Twizzlers.  And there it was, plain as day...

(The two other lights are from the cellphones of other onlookers.)  The light comes and goes every night, hovering above the ground, changing from red to greenish to amber, increasing and decreasing in intensity.  It was discovered in 1966 by a group of teenagers, and a dozen legends have sprung up surrounding it, most involving ghosts.  We waaaay downplayed the ghost thing with David and Mary--I think I've already established that my kids are fearful.  But it was fun to be out in the woods at night with a group of people all gathered together for the same weird reason.  And the light is pretty cool (and easy to see--it's definitely there), though the most plausible explanation, discovered two years ago, is a bit anti-climatic, of course (but still interesting!).

Then we returned back to Wisconsin, successfully avoiding the deer.  So my kids might only have spent two hours in Michigan, but, one day, when they're staring at a map of the U.S. and counting how many states they've been to, they'll thank us.  Also, they'll be able to say they've seen a ghost.

A few pictures of the Northwoods

If you thought you were off the hook for pictures from the weekend because my camera is filled with lake water, I'm here to inform you that you were mighty wrong.  Two words for you:  Cellphone camera.

Here are a few images from our weekend up north.

The hodag of Rhinelander, Wisconsin ... 

The mythical hodag is Wisconsin's bigfoot.  You can see the photograph that got everybody riled up and believing it was real HERE.

We made dinner one evening over a campfire.  I feel I should point out that this is probably as close to camping with their mom that my kids will ever get.

One morning we went to the little children's museum in Eagle River.  It was, not surprisingly, on the small side.  But my kids loved it!  It was charming and low-key, and there were lots of exhibits and opportunities for play.  David and Mary wanted to spend all day there playing.

I especially liked the woods-themed activities--like camping, fishing, and a ranger station complete forest fire look out tower.  (Like many children's museums, this one had a hospital area.  Unlike many children's museums, this one included a real exam table, complete with stirrups.  "Hey, let's go play gynecological exam!!  Who wants the pap smear this time?!")

David insisted on showing this next picture to his second grade class.

 "David," we said, "out of everything we did, you want to show them the picture of you inside pretending to fish?"

He insisted that he did.  We explained that a lot of kids in his class probably went fishing for real, so it was kind of weird for him to bring a picture of pretend fishing.

"Oh, that's okay," he explained, "then everyone will know that my parents won't take me fishing for real so this is the best I get."

He's right, you know.  David and Mary, when it comes to fishing, this is probably the best you're gonna get.  (I think we might need some yellow marshmallows.)

We ate at Soda Pop's in Eagle River.  It sells a bazillion kinds of gourmet bottled soda, plus they have an old-fashioned phosphate soda fountain.  Fun!

And the food is really good.  (Greg and I both went for the local sandwich specialty- meatballs with a cranberry ketchup brown sugar kraut sauce.  Yummmm.  Seriously!!)




Another time we ate at a beer garden in Minocqua. (We all had the root beer, of course.)

I think it was called Otto's.  And it was soooo good!  Highly recommended.



We spent a fair amount of time hanging out at the lodge.  We stayed at the Wild Eagle Lodge, and it was great!  It was really nice (and the rooms were spacious!) but rustic-feeling, and there was so much to do right there--beach, boats, indoor swimming pool, playground, campfire pits, basketball, volleyball, tennis, trails...definitely the kind of place you could hang out for a week. It would be really fun to go up with friends or family.  (I wish we were going to live here longer...)

Mary really liked the nice indoor swimming pool and playing on the beach.

David and his dad did some exploring of the lakes--this time in a motor boat.  (On their outing they spotted a real live bald eagle!!  Isn't that awesome?!)

David was a good helper!  Mary and I joined the boys for a couple of rides.  For instance, one early morning we took the boat over to town.  Beautiful (but cold!).  (We had to drag Mary kicking and screaming.  I'm not sure this was the right thing to do...but I don't see any boats any time remotely soon in her future, so hopefully she'll have plenty of time heal...)




We forced our kids on the wonderful Franklin Nature Trail in the very beautiful Nicolet National Forest.  I highly recommend this trail!  It takes you through different kinds of forests, to a lake shore, through a bog, and up a glacial ridge...all in just over a mile.  Plus there is an informative, interesting interpretive brochure.

David found these trees growing out of an old dead tree very interesting...

There are a gazillion lovely, remote lakes in Wisconsin, like this one.

The kids did pretty well.  But about halfway, they started to whine, especially David.  And Mary was upset we hadn't brought a stroller for her.  (What the heck??!!)  Oh well.  I figure if they never whined, then we were probably doing something wrong.

The highlight was this gorgeous ancient hemlock forest.

There are lots of forests in Wisconsin.  But most of them were clear cut by loggers at one point.  So it's very rare to see what a forest looked like before the logging.  Somehow the loggers (who were nearby) missed this patch of hemlocks.  It was amazing.

We also tried some biking.  Everyone we asked and everything we read directed us to the Anvil Trail in the Nicolet Forest.  It was supposed to be beautiful and very easy.  So it was beautiful.  And it was easy...if you're a mountain biker.

The problem is, well, at this time in our lives we are NOT mountain bikers.  We are one mountain bike with a tag-along attached, one single-gear kids bike, and one cushy touring bike with a pregnant lady atop.

It was fabulous dual and single track mountain biking, complete with roots, ruts, and plunges.  We lasted two miles.  We need to stick to asphalt.

But we congratulated David on his first real mountain biking ride!


And then we went home.

Our credibility is at the bottom of a lake ... but my flip-flops aren't!

The day after we got back from Eagle River Mary pulled out all the Playmobil boats, which, I should point out, she rarely touches.  Then she pulled out all the Playmobil rescue vehicles.  Then she proceeded to use the rescue vehicles to save the Playmobil people on the boats.

I can only hope she continues to work through her canoe trauma with Playmobil.  Otherwise, we are going to have a very big therapy bill one day.

Anyway, it all started at the beginning of the summer when Greg took the kids canoeing.  The lake was a little choppy, there was no adult to weigh down the front, and Mary was terrified of  "flying" over the waves.  It took coaxing, pleading, dragging, and praying to get her back in a canoe (twice!) in Door County. But she overcame her fear, and, except for the downpour in the middle of Sturgeon Bay, she had pretty good experiences.

First on the agenda last weekend in the Northwoods was some exploring of the Eagle River chain of  28 lakes.  (It's the longest continuous chain of freshwater lakes in the world!)  We stayed at the wonderful, fabulous, highly recommended Wild Eagle Lodge right on Duck Lake and Lynx Lake.  So after Mom took a nap, Mary played in the sand, and Dad and David tooled around in a row boat...

Looking out from our balcony.  Mary is on the left, playing in the water.  Greg and David are in the row boat.

 ...we all climbed into one of the lodge's canoes.  Well, first Mary cried and begged not to go.  But she gave in relatively easily.  Our credibility as parents had been strengthened in Door County.  Nothing bad had happened.  So when we said, "Nothing bad is going to happen," she believed us.  However, she did absolutely insist on changing into a swimming suit.  Although we told her there was no reason to be in a swimming suit--"Look, your brother is in jeans!"--it seemed a small concession to make.  So, after we waited for Mary to change, we finally climbed into one of the lodge's canoes.  And I climbed in with my camera.  (What could happen? I hadn't brought it into any watercraft in Door County, and I kind of regretted it.  What could possibly go wrong on such a lovely calm day?)

It was a gorgeous afternoon for a canoe trip!  We paddled around into little Lynx Lake.

Then we paddled into larger Otter Lake.  Beautiful!

Greg and I were itching to explore some more lakes.  But by this point the kids were getting really restless.  I mean, how much fun is it, really, to sit on a soggy cushion in the middle of a canoe?  So we turned around, paddling our way back to home base on Duck Lake.

Greg and I both saw it coming.  When the super-sonic-ultra-turbo-charged fishing boat sped past at full throttle,* it was inevitable.  Sure enough, our little canoe was caught in the gigantic wake, and we capsized.

(That is when our children's trust in their parents perished in the bottom of the lake.)

Oh, the ensuing fear and panic!

First off, we were totally fine.  We were all wearing life jackets (it's good to be anal sometimes), so no one's head even went under water.  Greg flipped the canoe back over, and put the kids back in.  Because he'd flipped it by himself (like I could have been much help), it was full of water and riding low.  But we weren't far from shore, so he simply towed the kids to a nearby dock.

Okay, back to the fear and panic!  Our kids responded completely differently.  Mary was calm, cool, and collected.  She immediately looked around her, gathered up objects that were floating away (like the very important paddles that we probably would have lost without her) and obediently climbed into the boat, hanging onto the paddles without needing to be asked.  (In addition, let's not forget that she was the only one with sense enough to wear a bathing suit.)  On the other hand, David completely lost it--he was hysterical, hyperventilating, and screaming at the top of his lungs like a dying baby wolverine (which sounds like I-don't-know-what but I imagine it sounds like the terrible high-pitched cries that were coming from my son).  Greg and I were begging him to BE QUIET.  We were all fine, for heaven's sake!  But he is the one who got us rescued.  (More on that in a bit.)

Meanwhile, as Greg was towing the kids to shore, I swam out for an extra life vest that was floating away.  I grabbed it and turned to swim to shore.  This should not have been a difficult task, and it wasn't really, but a few things made swimming to shore harder than it should have been.

One, while I was indeed wearing a life jacket, being a weird shape and all right now, I hadn't gone to the trouble of adjusting it to a good fit or latching all the buckles.  So it was all kind of tangled up around my neck.  It was definitely helping me float--but it wasn't really helping me out with my swim strokes.  Also, I was hanging onto that extra jacket that was getting all tangled up in everything too.

Second, my camera.  I had managed to hang onto it.  But it had been completely submerged.  So I knew it had perished, along with my credibility as a parent (and I was very sad about losing both).  But I was determined to save the memory card.  I figured it wouldn't help my cause if the camera were submerged for a long time.  At some point the water would seep in and corrupt the memory card, right?  So I carried the camera between my teeth.  Not very comfortable.  It would have been more convenient to tie the camera to one of the fifty life jacket straps tangling me (or even better, feed the camera to the fish), but I couldn't bear to lose the pictures on the memory card.

Third, my flip-flops.  I considered it a miracle from on high that my flip-flops were still on my feet after we went over.  I loved those flip-flops, and I was determined not to lose them.  Have you have tried swimming with flip-flops on your feet?  Not easy.  It slows you way down.  But between the camera and the life jackets, I wasn't sure trying to get them off my feet and into my hands was the best idea, or even possible.  So I just squeezed my toes and trudged along in the water, with my sandals dragging me back.  I looked at my kids, who were shouting for me to hurry, and I could see their worried looks.  I could even see a worried look on Greg's face.  (My pregnant wife is stranded in the middle of the lake, and she's not making much progress towards us.)  I should let the flip-flops go, I thought...for my family. For my husband.   For my children.  For my unborn child.  I was starting to get tired (remember that my cardio-vascular system goes kaput when I'm pregnant), and it occurred to me I might drown out there all because I wouldn't let my flip-flops go...

But then I thought about how miserable I would be all weekend without my favorite flip-flops.**  And then I thought about how it's now the off-season for buying flip-flops, and I very likely would not be able to find these particular flip-flops in my size until next spring.  And, now that I'm all practically native, I would definitely be wearing flip-flops to Target until December, at least, and I would deeply regret abandoning this pair in Otter Lake. I just couldn't live without them!

And it came to be that I decided that I would rather drown than sacrifice my flip-flops to the fish.

(I would like to point out that I obviously did not drown.  In fact, the prospect of life with my flip-flops was energizing, and I tapped into a well of energy that enabled me to swim the distance, sandals dangling and all. Plus, it helped that eventually the water was shallow enough that I could walk.)

At about this time a fancy ski boat, going very very slowly (thank you), pulled up alongside Greg and the kids (who had made it to a small private dock on the shore) and asked if we needed help.  Greg admitted to the nice couple in the boat that it would be helpful if they could take his wife and kids back to the lodge, and he would paddle the canoe back.  The caring man and woman kindly took three messy, dripping souls into their boat's beautiful leather interior.  I have to admit, it's kind of embarrassing to be completely soaked and fully-clothed.  And, I hate to admit, even more embarrassing when you have the belly the size of a great whale.  What a sight we must have been.  Fortunately, their boat went really fast (which the kids loved!), so we didn't have to hang out together for very long.

Now I must point out that we have David's blood-curdling screams to thank for the boat ride.  The couple had been relaxing in their lake house when they heard the screams.  They immediately jumped up, thinking someone was dying, grabbed the keys to the boat, and headed out onto the lake.  Again, this is kind of embarrassing--that your kid was screaming that hysterically when he was not in any real danger.  BUT it was really helpful to have that ride back to the lodge.  AND their boat went really fast which made it one of the highlights of the weekend for David and Mary.  SO I am deeply grateful to those kind-hearted folks who didn't hesitate for one second to lend a hand.

As far as the kids, we certainly did not start off the weekend well.  This was one of their deepest fears come true.  (And now they'll never believe us again.)  But David, in his usual fashion, more or less brushed the whole thing off.  He was excited to climb into a boat the very next day.  And Mary, in her usual fashion, internalized the whole episode and is emotionally scarred.  Hence the playing with the Playmobil boats.  Best of all, they had a good story to tell in school on Monday.  And isn't that the most important thing?

As far as my camera goes, it's dead, of course.  Before we stripped out of our wet clothes, I took this picture of David and Mary...

Oh I'm sad about that camera.  (It wasn't inexpensive.  Worse still, I had an emotional attachment to it.  But I did save the memory card.)

At least I have my flip-flops!


P.S.  When my mom was five or six months pregnant with her last child, she capsized in a canoe too!  What is with us?!  It's like we're cursed.  But I think I'll wait a few years to tell Mary about the curse.


* Stupids jerks.  I had to wait a few days to write this post, otherwise it would have turned into nothing but a bitter rant. Even now, after my cooling off period, I'm still annoyed by the jerks in that boat.  And they weren't the only ones.  The lakes were filled with speeding fisherman, leaving kayaks and canoes floundering (and flipping) in their wakes.  I even started thinking it must be perfectly acceptable by local customs to act that like--it seemed everyone with a motor was doing it!  Is this state really chock full of jerks with powerful fishing boats?  Perhaps there's an unwritten law that unmotorized watercraft stick to their lakes (because there are a fair amount of pristine Wisconsin lakes where motors are forbidden), and those with motors get to act however they want in "their" lakes??  But still, in what universe is it okay to whiz by AT FULL SPEED a canoe WITH SMALL CHILDREN less than 20 yards away, capsizing them in your gigantic fossil-fuel fed wake and then continue on as if there were not now because of you traumatized crying SMALL CHILDREN bobbing around boat-less in the middle of a lake?!  Come to find out, there was some kind of amateur fishing contest going on that weekend--and apparently you have to speed around as fast as you can all day long from favorite fishing spot to favorite fishing spot or something like that.  Call me crazy, but I still think common courtesy and the well-being of MY CHILDREN come before your muskie. Assholes.  Fortunately, I can take a deep breath and think about the kind people who "rescued" us.  I'm so grateful for them! They even had a few nasty looks regarding the speed demon fishermen.  So, don't worry, there are still plenty (lots and lots!) of very nice people in Wisconsin.  Phew.

**These are my favorite flip-flops ever.  And, see?  They don't have my size anymore.  So, see?  Definitely worth almost drowning to save them.

We went to Eagle River

After two months in bed or, on good days, watching Hannah Montana, I started feeling markedly better sometime in August.  That's when Greg came to have a problem on his hands.  His wife decided she had an entire summer's worth of fun to make up, and she was determined to do it.  This is how we ended up at Noah's Ark and Little Amerricka.  But that was not enough. Not even Door County was enough!

No, now that I was back from the dead, I had a lot of living to do.  And I decided it would be done on long weekends in the fall--in Colorado, Minneapolis, Chicago, South Dakota, Cincinnati, and various Wisconsin locales.  As I was explaining all this to Greg--reminding him that I had been so BORED all summer and that this was our LAST CHANCE to travel without a diaper bag and/stroller for four years--he just looked at me.  He may have said some words, but his look did most of the talking, and it said something like this:

"I am trying to write a dissertation here! On a really condensed schedule!! And I'm trying to get as far as possible before said baby, and I don't think I have to remind you what happens to you when we bring a baby home, so I really think it would be a good idea for me to get as much done as possible this fall, and that's really hard if we are never home!"

And I think he added:

"Also, our kids should probably go to school occasionally."

I pouted and whined (because I am really mature like that).  And then I crossed everything off my list.

Except Eagle River.  Which is where we were last weekend.

Eagle River is up in the Northwoods, near Minocqua.  Ever since we moved here, the locals have been telling us we HAVE to go to the Northwoods and how great Minocqua is (the low-key resort town at the heart of it all).  People absolutely insisted we would love it.  I was always a bit skeptical.  Having grown up camping in the Rocky Mountains, the idea of nature and woods without mountains or canyons is still a little odd to me.  I kind of get lakes (the Northwoods has the highest density of lakes in the world), but we don't fish, so....?  It seemed like the kind of place that would be great fun if you were renting a big cabin on a lake for a week in the summer with a bunch of extended family and Uncle Bob was bringing his boat so you could water ski and you happen to own a couple of wave runners.  But even people who don't own ski boats said the Northwoods would be fun.  So we thought it would be worth a look.  And guess what.

It was very fun.  We loved it. It is hard to be home.

But also nice to be home.  And now I am ready to settle into fall routines.

I will be posting pictures soon.  But not too many pictures.  My camera is filled with lake water.  Boo hoo.  And how it came to be filled with lake water is a story for another post.  (Or you could ask my kids, who marched off to school this morning ready to announce to their classes how they are never ever going in a canoe again.)

Solar System Bike Trek!

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Last weekend we finished our bicycle trek from the Sun to Pluto!  (You can read about the Dane County Planet Trek Scale Model Solar System and see our path here.)  We began at the Sun (also known as the Monona Terrace) last May, and we traveled to Mercury, Venus, Mars, and Ceres all in one easy afternoon.  Then in early June we biked from Ceres to Jupiter to Saturn (then back to Ceres, where we parked our car).  I've already posted about our adventures out to Saturn.  Now let me catch you up on the last few planets.

(A note on the outermost planets:  They are so far apart!  Logistics definitely got more complicated for us as the planets got farther away from each other.  Fortunately, we live along the Military Ridge State Park Trail.  This trek helped me better understand how far away Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto are--much more so than any picture in a book can convey.)


Uranus

Mary and Boots (who was safely taped to the handlebars) are ready to find Uranus.

For the trek to Uranus, we started at Saturn, biked to our house, passing Uranus along the way, and then later that day picked up the car (which we had left near Saturn).

It was a steamy August morning.  David was truly our Olympian-in-training!  Other riders on the trail even commented to him that he was going fast enough to be in the Olympics.  (Meanwhile, Pregnant Mom was bringing up the rear.  Pregnant Mom was not in Olympic form.)  This was the only leg that required contact with a busy road, and we all survived to see Uranus!

Neptune

One cool evening in August we decided to head for Neptune.  We left a car parked for us in teensy, tiny middle-of-nowhere Riley.  Then we biked from our house to Riley, passing Neptune along the way.   It was a gorgeous evening out in the prairies and rolling farmland.

Mary happily sang songs behind her dad.  David, as usual, took the lead.

In fact, he pretty much left us in the dust...

That is, until he had his first major bike wreck.  Poor David.  He momentarily zoned out just enough to lose control, and he slid across the loose gravel, his bike all tangled in his body.  He had some serious road rash--the skin on one of his knees was just gone, with dirt and rocks in its place. We congratulated him on being a real cyclist now!  And we assured him that Uncle Andy would be super proud!  But it didn't help much.  As anyone knows who has slid across dirt, gravel, or asphalt tangled in a bike knows, IT HURTS.  He cried and cried and cried the last couple of miles.  (It was our longest ride yet, coming in at about eight and a half miles.)  We finally made it to the car and the band-aids.  David insisted on taking a break from bike riding--he suggested for a couple of years, but we settled on a couple of weeks.  Sure enough, he was back on his bike in Door County.

We did see Neptune!  (Fortunately, it was before the big crash.)

Pluto

Pluto was the trickiest, logistically.  First off, we realized we needed to do the last leg backwards.  The ride from Riley, where we had left off last time, to Pluto in Mount Horeb is all uphill.  We could do it, but it would be NOT FUN.  So we decided to start at Pluto.  So, yes, it was a little anti-climatic starting at our final destination.  But it made for a very fun bike ride.

On our way to the town of Mount Horeb, where we would start, we dropped off a car in Riley, where we would finish.  Then we started at the Mount Horeb Military Ridge State Park Trail Station.  (It's really nice with bathrooms and lots of parking.)  You can see that the station was designed to reflect Mount Horeb's Norwegian heritage.

Pluto is right across the street from the trail station.  (It was a little chilly last weekend--that's why Mary is shivering.)

It was a gorgeous ride!  Through forests, wetlands, prairie, farmland.  It was my favorite stretch of our trek (and not only because it was all downhill!).  I wanted to stop every quarter-mile and take pictures of the beautiful scenery.  But when your kids are on a roll, you don't stop them.  So just trust me that it was very very lovely!

We did stop a couple of times for minor crises.  Like how David was so cold that he borrowed Greg's fleece, which took some doing owing to their different sizes. And how Mary kept getting rocks in her shoes until she finally decided to ride barefoot.  But overall it was pleasant and uneventful.

When we got to our car and realized we'd traveled the whole solar system (out to Pluto anyway), we felt very tough, as demonstrated here by Mary...

David felt such a sense of accomplishment, and we are so proud of him!  With shorter legs than us grown-ups and a single-speed bike, he had to work harder than anyone.  Yay, David!

We locked up the bikes, jumped in the car, drove to Mount Horeb, went to Culver's (because that's what you do in Wisconsin), then picked up the car with the bike racks, so Greg could go get our bikes in Riley and I could go home and take a nap (because that's what you do when you're pregnant).