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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:

Fuck this place

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

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A Lubbock County Almanac (January 9, 1995)

Hi!  I’m back home from school with a headache.

—-

I just ate some serbert and now my headache is gone.  We have a new teacher in school.  (I’m in 5th grade)  We’re doing a project in school about reading books.

–Simon

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Cucumbers!

If you recall, this is the experimental gardening year, and from the seed vault I have planted a pickling cucumber vine, and despite the presence of vine borers, it appears to be doing very well.

I came back from Wisconsin to see these guy on the vine.  As they were not normal cucumbers, I was uncertain when to pick them.  A quick Google search revealed that they could be picked at any time, so I guess they don’t suffer as much from bitterness if they get bigger?  Liz also concluded that they were ready, so I was convinced.  She also referred to them as “salad cucumbers”, so I presumed she had some prior experience with the variety.

I found them pleasantly very crunchy, and milder than I expected.  They didn’t have that strong cucumber-y aftertaste.  They’re also very prolific.  I anticipate a future experiment with homemade pickles.

–Simon

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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

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A Lubbock County Almanac (December 30, 1994)

Now that christmas is over and all your presents are open, you get that sad feeling.

It hasent snowed yet but I still have hopes (very little)  We usally don’t get much snow here because we live in Texas.  When we do get snow it’s a half inch and it melts before noon!  I really dont know what to write so by.

–Simon