Great America, Great Wonderful America

Is it true that in every elementary school across America there's some kid who insists that he or she will grow up to become a professional roller coaster designer? No, that kid was not me, I think my dream job was to become a scientist or a banker (I was an ultra geek), but I always dreamed of going to a real amusement park. Utah's beloved Lagoon never really did it for me, perhaps because back then they polluted local television with the most obnoxious of television commercials (by the way, those commercials were better than Star Wars compared to the Jared's Jewelers advertisements of today). All my thrill park dreams came true when the whole family drove 60 miles south, just over the Illinois border, to Six Flags Great America. And Great it was!! Holy cow, I've never had so much fun. Tyler bought us flash passes, which are these amazing devices that allow you to book yourself a spot at the front of the line of a ride about every 15 minutes. And boy did we get good at it too, we ended up running from one ride to the other, cutting to the front of the line, getting our heads tossed back and forth violently on some nutty ride, and rushing off to the next one still dizzy. The best ride there was Raging Bull which we ended up going on over and over again. Boy howdy, there's no other way to do Six Flags. Thanks Tyler.

Zoe also enjoyed Six Flags, but for different reasons. She was able to hang out with a variety of enormous cartoon characters, with whom she danced and laughed. There were all sorts of things on the ground for her to touch and sample, much to her parents' and grandparents' disapproval. We also took her on a number of "kiddie" rides, which she seemed to enjoy in a very bored sort of way. The pinacle of the trip for her though was definitely the funnel cake, which she was able to enjoy at the modest cost of only $4 per spoonful. You learn a lot about a person by how they act at Six Flags. I never knew that Tyler has the potential to be an olympic sprinter, or that Sara can scream better than those chicks in black and white horror films. I also never knew that Foghorn Leghorn looked so good in a vest.

Santiago's Sail

Santiago Calatrava's building which currently houses the Milwaukee Museum of Art was completed in May of 2001. That's not very long ago. The 217 foot fan closes up at night and during inclement weather, and has become one of the symbols of Milwaukee. Calatrava is a Spanish fellow that has been taking the architecture world by storm this last decade. Our art museum was his first work in the United States, and he is currently overseeing the design of what will soon become the country's tallest building, the Chicago Spire. You've probably read in previous posts about how excited I am for my spire to be built down in the Windy City. Next time Calatrava's in town, I'm totally taking him to lunch.

So one morning in June Sara woke up unable to see. That's certainly not a preferred vision status, so we took her to the emergency room and found out that she had ulcers on her eyeball. Eeeewwww!! All's well now, thanks to the treatment that she got from some very good optomolotritionologists, which included wearing an eye patch for a week or so. Needless to say, a vast quantity of pirate jokes were instituted at her expense.

Inside the MAM

Who'd a thunk that the Miwaukee Art Museum was so much more than a world-reknowned building that looks like a giant Oriental hand fan. We've been telling ourselves to go in and see what lies inside for a long time, but it took our visiting relatives to finally get us to do it. Sara's cultured me up good when it comes to art, and one of our favorite artists is Dale Chihuly. He does incredible glass sculptures, including the one pictured here, which is located in the Milwaukee Art Museum. Can you imagine designing and blowing all that glass? I can't either, mostly because I have no clue what is required in glass blowing, but I'm sure that while doing it, one should be careful not to breathe in. To make it even more impressive, Mr. Chihuly has only one eye, which I'd imagine really throws a wrench in the glass blowin' gears.

I was very impressed with the Milwaukee Art Museum and the works of art inside it. The collection was very large and the exhibits were put together well. I love how you can look out any window and get a fabulous view of Lake Michigan. I know that Randy, Diane and Tyler enjoyed the art museum because they stayed inside on a beautiful sunny day to see it...and that says a lot. Milwaukee often gets sort of a beer-drinkin', Favre-lovin', Harley-ridin' reputation, but it also offers a lot of the finer things in life if you know where to look for them. Its not hard to spot the MAM, and I'm very glad that we finally stepped inside.

In-Laws Visit the US North Coast

We're entering the cold and less-shiny portion of the year, so I declare a flash back to the sunny days of summer! Jennifer, Nathen and Annie must have given a good Midwest review because a month after they left Milwaukee, we played host-family to Sara's parents and brother. The Milwaukee area has plenty to offer over the summer, and we found ourselves rushing from one place to the other during the week they were out here, trying to fit in all the great stuff we wanted to do. I figure that if they're gonna drive 1500 miles to visit us, we better show 'em a good time. I am very proud of myself for having fed my in-laws all four indiginous Milwakee menu must-haves, including cream puffs, frozen custard, fried fish and various sausages...but more on that later. I'm very fortunate to have in-laws that totally rock, so prepare yourself for some heaping spoonfulls of blogging bliss!

And I helped!

I was thumbing through the thumbnails when I came across this picture. I didn't know this even happened until now. I have a perfect wife. I love you my Sara!

Ours is More Sincere Than Yours

Every year we tell ourselves that we're going to go to a real pumpkin patch to find our jack-o-lantern bodies, but before we know it Halloween is the next day and we end up picking pumpkins at Sam's Club. This year we made it a point to find the most sincere pumpkin patch in the area from which to extract our gourds. Wow that's a strange sentence.

Our friend Christie recommended Barthel farms in Mequon, which also includes acres and acres of pick-your-own apple orchards. We picked a peck or so and I'm still trying my hardest to eat them all before they turn into smelly apple goo. Zoe very much enjoyed pushing the pumpkin wagon around the patch, and she nibbled on every apple she could get a hold of. Can you believe there are actual people out there that know how to turn pumpkins into a food item? We searched the farm, but weren't able to find a tree bearing cans of pumpkin pie filling. I assume we were there too early for that harvest. Autumn is such a cool season.

Gumby could always bend, but now he flip-flops too!

The whole reason I started this blog in the first place is because I wanted to be like my buddy Mike. He began his blog while doing an internship in Senator Orrin Hatch's Washington DC office a few summers ago, and he always included pictures of any and all senators he saw/met while there. So now its my turn. I was at a meeting at work on Tuesday (I'm always in a meeting at work nowadays) and we heard a bunch of ruckus outside. We looked out the window and saw the longest man in the world shouting into a HUGE crowd of up to 35 people about the Demo-god (that's half Democrat, half God), Barack Obama. This man was unmistakably John Kerry, you can actually tell from the tenth floor. I went on out there to get a better look, and there I stood not ten feet away from the man that was hourly news four years ago. Did I mention that he is a very long person?

So there are 18 days until the election, I know this because election day happens to be exam day for me this year. I still don't know who I'm going to vote for as President of these United States. Out here in Wisconsin we are exposed to 12 campaign commercials an hour (we counted last night)...and all they do is just cause me to dislike both of the candidates. I'm finally living in a state where my vote counts, so I don't want to mess this up for everyone. I think I'll just vote for the candidate who makes up the best new word during the debates. So far, that gives Barack my vote, thanks to his invention of the word "enbolden". Although McCain giving Joe the Plumber the last name of Wertzenberger when its really Wertzenbacher puts me right back on the fence.

Don't worry, I'll post another blog soon so we can get Senator Gumby off the top of the blog.

Al Capone: Bad, Bad Man

Sara and I have become unofficial Al Capone afficionados. This wasn't a role we sought after, rather it was thrust upon us due to our unquenchable need to understand the roots of our new-found Mid West culture. Also, there's something fascinating about the mob, its sorta like that dead raccoon just off the road, you don't want to go shake its hand, or date its daughter, but you can't turn your head away as you drive by as quickly as possible.

A few days before we moved to Wisconsin we consulted the internet in search of a list of the reputable people that have lived in this fine state. Among the listed we found that Al Capone had two hideouts in Wisconsin, one up in the North Woods somewhere (we plan to find it in the Spring) and the other one right here in Brookfield. We stored this information somewhere in the cache of our brain files and went on with life, never knowing that Al's hideout was in the subdivision next to ours. We took a little hike around the corner to what is now called Capone Court and snapped some pictures of Capone's creepy old house. The place sticks out like a sore thumb, being the only one in the cul-de-sac that was built pre-1970's. People actually live in this place! Can you imagine how awesome it would be to brag to your friends and family that you live in the house once owned by the world's most notorious mobster? Very awesome. I hope they don't mind me taking pictures, no one shot at me with a Tommy gun from the patio, so I imagine it was alright.

You should get on the internet and learn more about Al Capone. He was the ne'er-do-well of ne'er-do-wells. The real irony about the whole story is that after all his shenanigans, he was finally sent to Alcatraz on tax evasion charges. Those Untouchables would not have gotten my vote for G-men of the year. To make it even worse, his ultimate demise wasn't getting all shot up Bonnie and Clyde style, rather, after completing both of his prison terms in California he died of cardiac arrest brought on by syphilis. I take comfort in knowing that he went totally nutso in those last few years. Super sleuth Sara found out that Al's grave is located just outside of O'hare Airport, so we stopped by last week after I flew in from recruiting at BYU. Yeah, we really like to find the final resting places of famous people (see the Pere Lachaise cemetary blogs of 2 years ago) so how could we resist that of Mr. Capone? Its way creepy that grass never grows in front of Al's gravestone. There used to be a huge bush planted in front of the family marker so that strange grave seekers couldn't find it. Next time any of you come out to visit, be sure to fly into O'hare so we can take you to see the mobsta cemetery.

The Brittish Invasion Sweeps Kenosha

Sara and I have been married now for exactly 1,250 days! We've had some great times amid those many days, but one of the best ever was the night we went to the Draper Days festival back in Utah and I made a complete ninny of myself on stage, thereby winning an electric guitar signed by The Beach Boys. After my spectacle was over we stayed and listend to a Beatles Tribute band and watched the fireworks. It was a fabulous night!

Since then we've been crazy about watching Beatles Tribute bands. We've learned that a summer night featuring the Faux Fab Four always leads to a lot of fun. Sara either had her belly or her arms full of Zoe last Summer, rendering us unable to see any Tribute bands, so this year we made up for it by going all the way down to Kenosha's St. Therese Church Festival to watch The Brits impersonate the world's greatest band. They did a very good job, I declare, though I can't say they were the toppermost of the poppermost. They knew every song (even the odd requests) by heart, and each band member played his instrument exactly as the album dictates. They could have used some help on their Liverputian accents, however.

This was Zoe's first experience with a mop-top, and she did not faint, but she did get down and dance with conviction, making her daddy very proud of her. Aren't outdoor summer concerts the best? It really doesn't even matter what the music is, its just a ball to sit there and listen...and chase Zoe all over the park. It was great to talk to Beatles fans both young and old there, no other band could be so recognized by such a wide variety of people (some wider than others). Paul, Ringo, if you're reading this, I love you guys!

A Midsummer Night's Game

July was the month of lawn games. The grass spends six months of the year covered in snow, and two more months looking all brown and nizasty. During the 4 months of the year that it is looking pristine and pretty we celebrate its health by beating the living daylights out of it with blunt objects and mallets. For this, my first Fathers Day, Zoe got me a croquet set and a bag of Bocce Balls. For those of you who aren't familiar with Bocce Ball, you're missing a lot. I don't remember if this sport is as famous back in Utah as it is out here, but all's I gotta say is yehaw! We've read up on all the rules and might soon become gold medalists. Except we really suck. But there's something very therapeutic about hurling a heavy chunk of rock as close as you can to a smaller chunk of rock. And speaking of strange lawn games, we've discovered an odd bean bag hurling game that always seems to show up at tailgating events. I don't know how to play this game, but people are quite serious about it. Ah the summer.

Summer at the Zoo

We were fiscally responsible at the beginning of the summer and got a yearly membership to the Milwaukee County Zoo. We can now drive right by the ticket booth and park for free whenever we want to mosey about the zoo looking for animal action. The zoo isn't too far away from our house, and makes for a great place for a leisurley stroll, so we've been going just about every week. I've got more pictures of the zoo than you could shake a stick at, but I thought I'd post only these two as they represent the coolese zoo moments of the summer. The elephants at the zoo are always doing way cool stuff, including the day this picture was taken. Ruth was standing at the very edge of her little cliff there reaching all the way to the branches of the tree across the way. That was pretty cool. I love elephants, they're such strange creatures. Everyone knows they come from a different planet.

I'm not really sure if the tiger at the zoo wants to eat Zoe, or just nibble on her face. The zoo stays open until 9 on summer Wednesdays, and we've discovered that in the late evening the big cats do their prowling and eating. Every time we show up to look at the tiger he stops doing his laps and comes straight to Zoe and stares at her for a few seconds. I'd like to thank the good people that make the glass between Zoe and the tiger. Thanks to all of our time at the zoo this summer I've begun to rethink my career...I want to be a veterinarian. Or perhaps a popcorn vendor.

The ongoing saga of the Favre

Given some of his recent career decisions, any Wisconsinian who doesn't live under a rock Up North somewhere has become very aware of and developed a strong opinion about Brett Favre. That opinion is always somewhere along the lines of, "its not his fault, aliens must have somehow gained control of his brain". Since I'm not really sure if this has been the headline news in the real world that it has been out here, I guess I ought to explain that after his retirement at the end of the last football season, Favre spent the month of July announcing his return to the Packers, getting rejected by the Packers, talking the Packers back into reinstating him, going back on his own reinstatement, talking to other teams, and eventually being traded to the New York Jets. Now remember that Favre was traded from the Falcons to the Packers in '92, and became thier starting quarterback after the fourth game of that season. He started for every Packers game from that day on, until his retirment in 2008. That's dedication. Or se we all thought. Sara and I are absolutely blown away by how much press coverage this got out here. I saw grown men crying in the streets the day he announced his retirement, and they all but closed my office early that day.

I really enjoy asking local football fans (which constitute all but about .08% of the population) about what they think of Favre's trade. No one really knows how to explain how they feel about it, probably because they feel it blasphemous to say anything negative about their fallen demi-god. I really like how our friend Dale explained it. He says (with my slight embelishment) that this is an Adam and Eve decision that has to be made by Packers fans, for there are two conflicting commandments, "Thou shalt love the Favre, thy god with all thy heart, might mind and strength" versus, "Thou shalt honour thy Packers and thy Brewers so that your summers may be long throughout the land". The Wisconsin sports fan can not keep both commandments, thus they live in fear of being kicked out of the Garden of Eden, flowing with beer and sausage, into the lone and dreary wilderness (Chicago). I enjoy a game of football, but I'm no fanatic, I've always just made sure I knew how the Packers are doing, and always hoped they do well. It'll be fun this year to check up on the Packers' second branch (The Jets) to see how they're doing. Somewhere on my left shoulder a little devil wishes that the Packers win the superbowl and the Jets get totally skunked. Wow, this post has become long, looks like I've once again become immersed enough in the Wisconsin culture to drone on about it for many paragraphs. Let me know what you think of Mr. Favre.