I have been asked by a half-dozen people (none of them Minnesotans, I hasten to add) to define "Pronto Pup" (as referenced in a previous post, where I noted that Kip ate three of them at the Minnesota State Fair on Sunday). I have also been asked about our lovely vacation up north. Therefore, if you do not feel the need to learn about the important distinctions between Pronto Pups and corn dogs -- and *really* don't want to listen to the boring recitation of my vacation -- quick, go away now.

PRONTO PUPS

A Pronto Pup, which is, as I understand it, indigenous to the Minnesota State Fair, is like a corn dog except that the batter coating the hot dog contains wheat; the coating on a corn dog contains cornmeal. Also, Pronto Pups are hand-dipped and fried on location, as opposed to corn dogs, which are pre-made. And Kip points out that the hot dogs within Pronto Pups are made of beef, unlike most corn dogs.

Wikipedia, the source of much of my arcane knowledge, says Pronto Pups have been available at concession stands around the countrysince the 1950s.

I should also note that for years, I didn't believe Kip when he insisted that there was a difference between a corn dog and a Pronto Pup. I finally delved into the topic and learned that he was right.

He is, BTW, quite lofty about preferring Pronto Pups to corn dogs, and I love to see his face turn red at the fair when I suggest stopping at a stand to buy a corn dog. Hee.

MY VACATION AT THE LAKE

Where do I start? It was perfect. The time share at Breezy Point near Pequot Lakes, Minn., that my wonderful stepfather-in-law gave us for the week was a little apartment in a large wooden building (though far bigger than many apartments in which I've lived, I have to say), with its own secluded balcony and a full kitchen, big enough for exactly one and a half people to stand in (for example, you couldn't open the dishwasher while standing at the sink, but no matter). Andrew slept on the pull-out couch in the living room; not only is he young enough to be able to actually sleep on a pull-out couch, but he declared that it was a Transformer couch (it transformed into a bed!), and thus perfect for him. He had his own TV with DVD player, and Kip and I had a TV *and* a Jacuzzi in the bedroom. There was a shower in the bathroom, but the only thing we used it for the entire week was to hang up wet swimsuits. There was also a gas fireplace in the living room which we did not use, although that's only because the temperature hovered in the 80s and 90s while we were
there.

There was a lovely indoor pool right across the hall from us, along with a hot tub, and we availed ourselves of both every day (except I steered clear out of the hot tub after Tuesday, for reasons which will become apparent).

Andrew learned to fish. One of the main buildings was right across the road from our building (Breezy Point is a *huge* resort, stretching out in all directions on Pelican Lake, with at least two golf courses, private cabins and at least a half-dozen larger buildings with apartments), and there was a dock attached. He and Kip went down there frequently (and I joined them a few times) and fished off the dock, and Andrew proved to be a fine fisherman; he caught many sunfish, all of which he threw back, and Kip caught many weeds, all of which he also threw back. This amused Andrew greatly. He said Kip is not a fisherman but a weederman. Andrew did, however, decline to attach either leeches or earthworms to hooks, leaving this task to his father, who handled it without cringing and earned my great admiration.

Kip cooked several wonderful meals, and we also investigated the area's restaurants while we were there. On our last night we ate at what would certainly be a three- or four-star restaurant in any large city, a place called Norway Ridge, which was north of Breezy Point, tucked away on Kimble Lake. It was utterly fabulous. Even Kip, whose palate is far more sophisticated than mine, gave it very high marks. (The evening was marred somewhat when Andrew became violently ill on the way to the car after dinner; he had apparently picked up some kind of bug and spent the night and most of the trip home the next day being sick. A few days after we got home, the insidious bug worked its way through me and later Kip.)

There was a recreation center in the building across the way, and I challenged my husband in ping pong and air hockey. Although he acquitted himself well in air hockey, winning about half the games, I have to say that I kicked his booty at ping pong in Every. Single. Game. (Yes, I know, it's just ping pong. But my athletic abilities are so limited that I have to celebrate my success when I can.)

Andrew had the opportunity to make candles and paint a birdhouse; the resort offered many such workshops for people staying there. We also played bingo with other time-share folks one night, and Andrew won a 2-liter bottle of Coke, to his great delight. And Kip and I attended a "makeover" session with a Mary Kay saleswoman who let everyone try cleansers and makeup. (She was somewhat taken aback to see a *man* show up, but she quickly recovered and told him earnestly about all of Mary Kay's fine products for men. Northern Minnesota is not exactly the Land of the Metrosexual, is all I'm saying.)

On Tuesday afternoon we rented a very long pontoon boat and took it out onto Pelican Lake. Kip, having pretty much grown up on a houseboat on the Mississippi, is a skilled captain, so we were in good hands. The boat was brand-new and, as I pointed out repeatedly, it incorporated industrial fabrics in its awning (I pointed this out so repeatedly, in fact, that at one point Andrew pointed to another boat on the lake and said in a superior tone, "Look, Mommy, that boat doesn't have any industrial fabrics").

We found a somewhat secluded beach on a nearby island, pulled the boat up onto the sand and went for a swim. Andrew collected shells and bobbed about in the water with his life jacket; before too long the beach was swarming with people from other boats. It became quite a popular spot. We left reluctantly after a few hours and eventually
found our way back to the dock; Pelican Lake is very large, with many inlets and coves, and we did, in fact, get somewhat lost. (Kip was overheard to mutter several times, "I don't like lakes. I'm used to rivers.") But we got the boat back in time and all was well.

Of course we slathered Andrew with sunscreen, but yours truly didn't use enough and I ended up burned to a crisp. I could have been a stand-in as a corporate logo for a well-known seafood restaurant chain. I was so burned that I ended up with the shivers that night. I felt a lot better the next day, however, and I spent most of the next week alternately basting myself in Noxzema and peeling copiously. Alas, because of my sunburn, after Tuesday, the mere sight of the hot tub made me start shivering again.

I know that many other people have spent time at resorts like this before, but this was my first time, and my best description of it is that it was like summer camp for grownups. Everyone there was very relaxed and friendly for the entire week, but on Friday morning, when we were all packing up cars in preparation for returning to the Real World, everyone had once again put on their frowny faces and were behaving in a much colder and less friendly fashion. It was like flipping a switch.

It was a truly wonderful vacation, one of the best I can remember. Thanks, Tom.