The Cuddly Hubby and I took a two-week vacation to Wisconsin. Yes, that Wisconsin. The one at the top of the map of the United States. I know Wisconsin does not sound like the most interesting or exciting place to visit, but it turned out to be a really grand time. Also, major kudos to the Cuddly Hubby who did all the planning for this trip. He made all the reservations, printed the maps, and researched what might be interesting to see. He rocks!
We left on Saturday the 25th, the day after Bruce's funeral. We packed a picnic lunch and found a fine rest area on an island in Nickajack lake off I-24 in Tennessee. Credit to Tennessee's Department of Transportation or tourism or whoever is in charge of rest areas. This was a lovely location with picnic benches and shade trees.
We drove to Columbus, Indiana that first night. We had initially planned to get a room closer to Indianapolis, but the Brickyard 400 was that weekend. Columbus was a good stopping point, anyway. So good that we parked next to another vehicle with a Cobb County, Georgia license tag. (For those of you in other states, Georgia includes county information along the bottom edge the license plate.) For the next two weeks, that would be the last Georgia tag we saw.
The following day we drove the rest of the way to Green Bay, Wisconsin. The Cuddly Hubby and his bio-mom talked a couple times on the cell phone, as we gave her our estimated time to arrival. I think they were both a bit nervous in a charming sort of way.
Note: Go around Chicago. Even on a Sunday afternoon, just give in and pay the dang tolls. The last time I was so delighted to have something in my rear view mirror, I was crossing the Delaware River into Pennsylvania and leaving New York City and the New Jersey turnpike behind. The drivers in Georgia may be semi-crazy -- after all, they've learned to drive by watching Nascar. On the other hand, the interstate highways in Georgia are free, have plenty of lanes, few potholes, and the speed limits are unenforced excepting the most egregious violations. Any place where I have to pay to move freely about the roadways is not civilization, whether it is the toll authority or armed bandits who are picking my pockets every ten miles.
After much delay in Illinois and a deserved respite of fine local pizza in Wisconsin, we arrived in Green Bay about 8:30 PM local time. This isn't a great picture, but here is the grand prize. The first hug between the Cuddly Hubby and the nice lady who put him up for adoption more than four decades ago.
We left on Saturday the 25th, the day after Bruce's funeral. We packed a picnic lunch and found a fine rest area on an island in Nickajack lake off I-24 in Tennessee. Credit to Tennessee's Department of Transportation or tourism or whoever is in charge of rest areas. This was a lovely location with picnic benches and shade trees.
We drove to Columbus, Indiana that first night. We had initially planned to get a room closer to Indianapolis, but the Brickyard 400 was that weekend. Columbus was a good stopping point, anyway. So good that we parked next to another vehicle with a Cobb County, Georgia license tag. (For those of you in other states, Georgia includes county information along the bottom edge the license plate.) For the next two weeks, that would be the last Georgia tag we saw.
The following day we drove the rest of the way to Green Bay, Wisconsin. The Cuddly Hubby and his bio-mom talked a couple times on the cell phone, as we gave her our estimated time to arrival. I think they were both a bit nervous in a charming sort of way.
Note: Go around Chicago. Even on a Sunday afternoon, just give in and pay the dang tolls. The last time I was so delighted to have something in my rear view mirror, I was crossing the Delaware River into Pennsylvania and leaving New York City and the New Jersey turnpike behind. The drivers in Georgia may be semi-crazy -- after all, they've learned to drive by watching Nascar. On the other hand, the interstate highways in Georgia are free, have plenty of lanes, few potholes, and the speed limits are unenforced excepting the most egregious violations. Any place where I have to pay to move freely about the roadways is not civilization, whether it is the toll authority or armed bandits who are picking my pockets every ten miles.
After much delay in Illinois and a deserved respite of fine local pizza in Wisconsin, we arrived in Green Bay about 8:30 PM local time. This isn't a great picture, but here is the grand prize. The first hug between the Cuddly Hubby and the nice lady who put him up for adoption more than four decades ago.
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