Lauren and I hadn't had a vacation in close to a year.
We've travelled, yes, but it has always been tied to work or family.
These things are not a vacation.
Here's something:
If you sing The Go Go's hit "Vacation" very slowly, it's actually a sorrowful plea.
We spent our six hours of vacation driving to Door County, Wisconsin.
My folks and I went there when I was six.
For under six dollars, they bought me a pendant which decorated my wall for years.
Decades later I returned with a lady on my arm.
We laid waste to the place!
Not really.
I just like to say that when I'm traveling.
Also, things like, "Okay, Door County. Show us your tits."
Y'know.
Classy quotes.
As it turns out, Door County does have nice tits.
In Ephraim, we walked along the shore, and watched the kayakers.
The other side of the shore houses the Peninsula State Park, a forest on the bay.
It made for a tranquil Sunday afternoon.
We made reservations for a fish boil at The White Gull Inn in Fish Creek.
I had never heard of a fish boil.
At first it conjured up difficult images of nasty blisters secreting scaly pusy oils.
Ah but no.
It's when a pot is filled with freshly caught, salted whitefish and hung above an open fire.
Then kerosene is doused onto the lickety flames.
And people go close to bananas.
You debone the fish, eat potatoes, drink beer, and eat raspberry, blueberry, and Swedish rye bread.
Followed by cherry pie, the kind those nice lads in Warrant sang about.
Then you drive home.
But not before making reservations to come back again for a real vacation in October.
I personally cannot fucking wait.
Verdict: Win
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