Observations – Page 20

July 17, 2017

Pass!

Okay, I have one more Wisconsin post, and this is the last one, I promise.

Admittedly, I should have posted this sooner, to establish a more cohesive chronology. But this isn’t as interesting as the nature posts, since I’m just ranting here.

I am calling attention to the little town of El Paso, WI:

I can only conclude that this place’s existence is entirely dependent on the fact that state route 24 intersects with I-39, creating a settlement out of opportunity, and therefore so aptly-named: El Paso.

We made the mistake of stopping here last year, on the way home. There was one gas station, and it uses its location to exploit a price hike, but it does so in a tricky manner–advertising the price of gas with a car wash, but that fine print is a little hard to read from afar.

The men’s restroom was out of order, so I was forced to use a porto-potty, which was the most disgusting confined space I’ve ever been forced to endure. After retching to the point of delirium, I went into the station to buy hand sanitizer–which they didn’t have. So I bought a ridiculously expensive bottle of rubbing alcohol to substitute.

Yet we forgot these experiences, and made the mistake of stopping there again. After abandoning the drive-thru at the local McDonalds because we were unwilling to wait 20 minutes, we got gas, and fell victim to the false-advertising again.

So, if you ever find yourself in this town, my advice–just drive on.

–Simon

July 14, 2017

Aldo Leopold

Sometimes events align in an uncanny relation. I recently parodied a book from my youth: A Sand County Almanac, by beginning a series of posts from my childhood journal. I recalled that the book’s setting was in Wisconsin, so when we took our trip up there recently, the book was on my mind.

Then, when driving into town on a liquor run, I saw this:

Curious, I delved deeper and discovered that there is no “Sand County” in Wisconsin, at least not as a political delineation. The name is used in reference to the geographical region of Wisconsin which has sandy soil. I wondered: how far did that region extend, and was this turn of phrase in the common local lexicon–and therefore this business name being of no relation, or was this business name indeed an intentional nod to the author?

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a clear physical boundary of “Sand County”. But the Wausau region is still very glaciated and sandy, being interspersed with a lot of lakes, so I think it qualifies.

Additionally, I discovered Leopold has a historical marker. Obviously the marker would be placed in the physical region, so I input the coordinates into a map:

Wausau is about 50 miles away, and on the way home, the closest we got was 31 miles. So while I’ll never know the above business owner’s intentions, I think this concludes that we were officially in Sand County, and enjoy the historical significance for what it is.

–Simon

July 12, 2017

You’ll Burn Your Eye Out!

One of the parental killjoys that has stuck with me over the years has been my father’s aversion to sparklers. Liz, however, had a very different childhood experience, so fireworks are less of a novelty to her. Admittedly, I still giggle whenever I set off a bottle rocket. I guess the bar’s been set pretty low.

I will attempt to quote my father’s response to a childhood inquiry regarding purchasing sparklers: “Those things are made of magnesium, which burns at 3000 degrees centigrade! They use magnesium flares to weld underwater! No you can’t have one!”. That may not be a direct quote, but it includes all his points.

So when Liz picked some up for the kid, I thought about this past conversation. A quick Google search reveals that, depending on the composition, they burn upwards of 1600 degrees Celsius–not quite as hot as my father claimed, but I still wouldn’t want to touch the flame.

But, like getting salmonella from raw cookie dough, some experiences are worth the danger risk. Personally, I think it was just an excuse to avoid spending money on something superfluous–a reason that makes far more sense to me now as a father myself. I wonder what goofy thing I say that my own kid will remember forever.

Ah well. For now–fire!

–Simon

July 7, 2017

Come on…

This last week, we visited the family cottage. Specifically, it’s my wife’s mother’s father’s, who bequeathed it unto two of his daughters upon moving into assisted living. It’s up near Wausau, WI, which means it’s a looong way to drive.

But 10 hours in a car left me plenty of time to pontificate on how much the radio stations in Midwestern states suck. Interspersed amid the 24/7 bible and country stations are a selection of oldies, but not good classic rock oldies–random oldies.

What I found interested was the ubiquity of these random oldies, as if DJs everywhere had attended an annoying music summit and agreed upon a selection. For example, as we approached the western border of Ohio, on came Dexys Midnight Runners’ “Come On Eileen”, a song I feel is safe to classify as a one hit wonder.

We seem to have a mixed relationship with British music

This time, it made me smile briefly. I commented to Liz that the song was an odd choice, and we discussed it for a moment, for as I stated, the car ride was long, so conversational topics tended to arise out of any minor stimuli to break the tedium.

Later, somewhere in Indiana, the song came on again. I thought that was unusual, since by then we were cruising different radio stations. Then we heard it again in Illinois. At that point, we were in the heart of the Midwest, and though the nation might hate Ohio as a whole, at least we have a more diverse culture. But in Illinois, we didn’t have more than one rock station available, so we endured it.

Then we heard the song again in Wisconsin, and at this point began to debate why this song was suddenly so popular again. All I can conclude is that, since it released in the 80s, and music in the 80s was terrible, it’s a song for which the aging disco-era weirdos feel nostalgic. Who knows?

–Simon

June 22, 2017

When a Problem Comes Along…

To all dog owners out there: if you can, catalogue every single dog photo you’ve taken and compare that to the total number of photos you have saved. For me, it’s 239/4803. So, 5% of my photos are dog photos. I suspect that that figure is fairly normal.

But enough of my rambling. You want to see dog photos!

–Simon