Up in Wisconsin

I've been back from Wisconsin for two days now, but already eyebrow-deep in work again, throwing and trimming pots for my early November show, whilst also creating ads for them. But finally, a few moments to reflect.

It was really a whirlwind trip. We flew in on Thursday to Minneapolis, drove down to Wisconsin Friday, went to my niece's wedding and reception Saturday, back to the Twin Cities Sunday, fly home Monday. Precious little time to ourselves, though we did manage a Friday fish-fry together while everyone else went to the rehearsal dinner. Cod and sweet potato fries, really good, and a classic Wisconsin appetizer: deep-fried cheese curds.

The wedding couldn't have been more Wisconsin. Bridesmaids' dresses were in brown bow-hunter camo, with red satin laces in back; groomsmen wore kakhis and brown vests, with red necktie, but their boutonnieres were mounted in spent shotgun shells. At the start of the processional, the "flower dude and dudette"--adult friends of the couple--walked up the aisle, strewing rose petals from camo-patterned fanny packs.

The celebrant was a priest from Stevens Point who'd gone to high school with the groom, so peppered his homily with a few mildly embarrassing anecdotes, but also did a rather nice job of reflecting on the changes marriage brings.

All in all, lovely, hilarious and touching in all the right quantities.

The reception was held in the loft of a converted barn, which was mildly problematic, as several of the guests had mobility issues: my mother, aunt, and father of one of the guests in wheelchairs, a cousin with walker, Denise with a cane. They offered to carry folks up the stairs, though only the father took them up on it. Denise managed with her cane; everyone else ate downstairs at picnic tables, which at least meant they avoided the crush upstairs. Food was pretty good for wedding fare, though I'm not sure barbecue chicken breasts and potatoes and beef gravy really go together. My brother made sure there was potica at every table, and I wound up having to explain what it was several times to members of the groom's family.

I was driving Mom, so we didn't stay for the dance. Drove home through the dusk, slowing to pass crowds of Mennonite teenagers on bikes, pedaling along the shoulder of the road. (Knew they were Mennonites by their clothes, and because if they'd been Amish, they'd have had horse and buggies.) Saturday night must be date night.

Messing around in boats

My satnav tried to drown us Sunday.

It's a Garmin we bought to help us get to art shows, and it's usually pretty reliable, except it has a tendency to want to take us on ferry rides. Tries to put us on the Whidbey Island ferry when going to Anacortes, for example, even though there's a perfectly good bridge on the north end of the island. And more than once, it's directed me to tiny Willamette River ferries, even if they only run one day a week; it seems to have a fascination with boats.

This, however, was a little bit beyond all that.

We'd brought it back with us this time because the last rental car, in May, had Navigator screen, but no software installed, and following Google Maps on my phone is a pain because I can't look at the screen while driving, and it's frequently about half a turn short on its instructions. Not to mention the fact that it defaulted to bike paths the last time we were in Minneapolis, and took us on an interestingly circuitous route from the airport to my sister's place at 10 pm. And of course cell service is terrible in rural Wisconsin, so the map can go away just when you need it the most.

So, Sunday morning, we checked out of the motel in Neillsville, had a leisurely breakfast with my brother and sister-in-law, then headed out for the highway. Lovely fall day, maples just starting to turn, puffy white clouds. Beautiful, and we made good time.

Perhaps a little too good. Realized we'd hit Minneapolis around 2:30, and the folks we were overnighting with wouldn't be home 'til supper, so we needed to fill some time.

If we'd been on state roads, it would've been easy to find an orchard or farmstand or just a picturesque town to poke around in. The Interstate, however, is designed to avoid pesky distractions like that. I know, I said, somewhere northwest of Eau Claire, Let's stop at Como Park in St. Paul. They've got a zoo and a conservatory and it's not too big, or usually too crowded. So we looked up Como Park Zoo and Conservatory in the Places of Interest tab, programmed the Navigator, and hit the road.

We got to St. Paul in good time, wound through the streets toward our destination, then, with a .3 miles to go, dead-ended in a T-intersection, right at Como Lake.

I took a right turn, looped around the lake and tried again. As I came back around, it started saying "Go Off Road" and indicating a left turn. Right into the water, which would have disturbed the couples out in swan boats considerably.

I found a parking space, dumped the program and got out my phone, which took us back around the other side, where we found the Conservatory and Zoo, admired the water lilies, and and Denise rested her knees on a bench by the flamingo pond while I walked around with my sketchbook.

Figured it out later--because we selected the place, but not the address, it was trying to place us in the center of the park. Drowning us was just an unexpected bonus.

Of course, on the way back to Maggie's, it tried twice to get us to take sections of 35W that were closed for construction, so I should probably download a map update as well.

Oh that's not good

Got a call from the credit union this afternoon, asking to confirm the amount on a check someone had brought in to cash. Didn't recognize the name--Steven Count? Counts?--asked which account, because Denise and I are joint on each other's checking, plus we have a Money Market account.

He read me the last four digits of the account--my primary--so I asked for the check number. Turned out it was one I'd written that morning for just over $2000, to pay my credit card bill. (I'd bought a ton of clay, and also ordered some online printing for Clay Fest and Clayfolk.) Kept him on speaker while I walked out to my mailbox. Flag was still up, but sure enough, the envelope was missing.

He said it looked like the payee line had been altered, and that the guy had scrammed as soon as he said he needed to call me to confirm the amount--made some excuse about his girlfriend out in the parking lot needing him. So they didn't have him in hand, but I think they've got a camera on their entry, and he's going to refer this to their fraud department. Asked if I wanted them to hold the check for me, but I said to just send me a scan and pass it on to enforcement. At least, since they have the check in hand, I don't have to stop payment. But I'm gonna have to start taking bills down River Road to a secure mailbox. And maybe see about online payment, though at least one of my bills tacks on a surcharge for that.

But in the meantime, I'm kinda shook, and very grateful to the Oregon Community Credit Union employee who smelt something fishy, and followed through.