Red: HELLO WISCONSIN!

We've been in Wisconsin since Sunday, and it's been pretty enjoyable.

We took Monday and Tuesday to do administrative work at Beth's brother-in-law's house just outside of Milwaukee. Somehow, we can never seem to catch up.

I didn't know Milwaukee had a beach until yesterday. When I posted this on Facebook, dear Elayna commented a few seconds later saying "No! Don't go in the water! You'll get ebola!" Sounds real promising, right?

(Still gorgeous, though.)

We got to the beach, packed some Constitutions in our backpacks and headed out to "convert some people." Luckily, Beth had our sanity in mind and reminded us, "Do you guys have beer with you?" (You should probably be jealous that you don't have a boss as cool as Beth.)

So Luke and I plopped down on the sand, avoided the water and what came next was better than T.V...except maybe How I Met Your Mother. Nothing beats that. And Glee. Oh, and That '70s Show.

Anyway, we watched a girl with her Chihuahua and multiple bags stumble across the sand, apologizing to the guy that was sitting about twenty feet in front of us. She unpacked a blanket and a bottle of wine and shortly thereafter, we found out it was a blind date.

I don't subscribe to Cosmo, but I've read enough articles to know that if you turn towards your date and he turns away and doesn't talk, he's just not into you. This means that you should probably tone it down.

This also means that you should not pull out your toy accordion to play for your date.

(If you look really closely, you can see the accordion. It's the blue thing in her hands that she's playing for the poor guy and her dog.)

I wish we could have seen the end of this date. It was our entertainment for a good hour, but we had to leave, so I have no idea how the accordion went over with this guy. If I had been in his shoes, I would have jumped in the lake, ebola or no.

I don't know what your definition of "campsite" is, but here's my rough idea: a place in which people temporarily occupy with various supplies, including, but not limited to: a tent, sleeping bag, firewood, or in our case, a 40-foot bus.

I do not define "campsite" as a permanent residence. In the place we stayed last night, there were over 300 permanent residences. Beth equated this place with the movie Deliverance. I equated it with The Hills Have Eyes. In any case, it was a little freaky.

We survived, though, and we went to Madison today. Madison restored my faith in Wisconsin a little. We parked outside the capitol building and tried to hand out Constitutions.

One guy took one, walked down the street, and returned it to us, saying he couldn't accept it because he works for the legislature.

I laughed at him. "You can't have a United States Constitution because you work for the legislature?!"

He went on to talk about codes of ethics and what he could and could not accept. He wasn't sure if he could accept our Constitution; I wasn't sure if I could handle Wisconsin's "codes of ethics."

Wherever we go, people like asking how living in a bus is. It's not bad. By the end of the day, I'm so tired that I have no idea whether or not my bed is comfortable.

People also like asking how it is being so far from New York. Honestly, I couldn't be happier, but I do miss a few upstate New York staples (in my life, at least):

Chill and Grill ice cream.

The quarries and bluffs.

Garbage plates.

Red Zeppelin.

My friends. (That '70s Crew included.)

I really want to stand on top of this bus and yell "Hello Wisconsin!" for them, just because I feel obligated to as Jackie "Jack Attack" Burkhart.

I do not, however, miss the cows. But I haven't seen one in the dairy capital of the U.S. Although I don't miss them, I feel kind of cheated about this.

Oh well. There's still a few more days.

Over and out,

Red.