And just how cool is this?

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.

I know, it's sophomoric. But just look at the things I learned about my husband:

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Kip!

1. In his entire life, Kip will produce only a twelfth of a teaspoon of honey.
2. Kip can remain conscious for fifteen to twenty seconds after being decapitated.
3. Kip was originally green, and actually contained cocaine!
4. Kip cannot jump!
5. The Church of Scientology was founded in 1953, at Washington D.C., by Kip.
6. Kip is the oldest playable musical instrument in the world!
7. Kip cannot regurgitate!
8. It is bad luck to light three cigarettes with the same Kip.
9. The Kip-fighting market in the Philippines is huge - several thousand Kip-fights take place there every day.
10. Britain's Millennium Dome is more than double the size of Kip.

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

Note: Number 7 is true only in December, January and February.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Betsy and Kip!

1. Americans discard enough Betsy and Kip to rebuild their entire commercial air fleet every 3 months.
2. It took Betsy and Kip 22 years to build the Taj Mahal.
3. You burn more calories sleeping than you do watching Betsy and Kip.
4. The Vikings believed that the Northern lights were caused by Betsy and Kip as they rode out to collect warriors slain in battle.
5. A thimbleful of Betsy and Kip would weigh over 100 million tons.
6. Betsy and Kip can grow up to three feet in a 24-hour period.
7. About one tenth of Betsy and Kip are covered in ice.
8. Betsy and Kip will often glow under UV light.
9. Betsy and Kip do not have toes!
10. Betsy and Kip were named after Betsy and Kip the taxi driver in Frank Capra's "It's a Wonderful Life"!

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

I had such a vigorous (read: not stretched out on the couch immersed in a book) weekend, and so little sleep last night (thanks not to anything titillating but because some very loud storms rolled through starting at about 2 a.m. and the dog spent several hours panting loudly and whining nervously beside the bed, because he is a giant marshmallow), that I resemble a zombie today in both appearance and temperament.

MY COMPANY PICNIC

It was Friday afternoon and evening at a lovely park in Roseville. The food was good (chicken and barbecued ribs); there was a playground and many other short people for Andrew to play with; there were games; and there was a cooking contest, which, I am pleased and proud to report ...

KIP WON!

He concocted homemade pico de gallo, which was drop-dead delicious, and beat out an array of desserts that were alternately boring (chocolate chip cookies in a cooking contest? Really? Unless you're Mrs. Fields or Sweet Martha or Bob Tollhouse, I don't think so) or so sweet they'd send even non-diabetics into insulin shock. Granted, there were a few lovely things, such as the chocolate-and-whipped-cream-and-fresh-raspberry torte that my pal Sigrid entered, and with which she won the prize for Most Decadent. But Kip's pico was fabulous. The best I've ever tasted. If I wasn't already married to him, I'd marry him simply on the strength of that pico.

Anyway, Kip won an MP3 player, which he handed over to me, and which I will happily use once I figure out how the darn thing works, by cracky (which is what my sister Jennifer says whenever someone says something that makes them sound hopelessly old).

Oh, and we played bingo. I won twice and Andrew won once. We left before the other contestants, bitter about our success, could run us out of the park with pitchforks and torches.

THE RENAISSANCE FESTIVAL

It actually started the weekend of Aug. 18-19, but since the Twin Cities were being deluged with rain that weekend (and almost the entire following week, glub glub), we chose instead to stay indoors where we were in less danger of drowning. So we went on Saturday instead and scored our season tickets, confirming that we are, in fact, hopeless geeks. So you don't need to tell us, is what I'm saying. We embrace our geekhood.

It was a perfect day for the festival, and once again we enjoyed picking out the newbies who roamed about in boring t-shirts and shorts (yes, of course we dressed up; we always dress up. See above paragraph), gaping at those of us who were dressed for the occasion. Perhaps because I had my purple coin-bedecked belly-dancing scarf tied around my hips, I was pulled up to join a group of belly dancers and did OK until I got self-conscious and jumped back down, where Kip and Andrew were wildly applauding me, bless their biased hearts.

It was Highland Fling weekend, and I found my way about midafternoon to a booth where a woman was sitting behind piles of books. I picked up one and glanced through it; apparently this woman, Audrey McClellan, was the author of these books, a series of light novels set in Scotland (and appearing to be pretty well-written and well-edited), and not merely someone who was minding the store. I decided to buy the first one in the series, "Westering Home," and she asked for my name so she could autograph it. When I said, "Betsy," she said, "Oh, like the Betsy-Tacy books!" Once I had picked myself up off the ground, I started babbling about the listserv, blah blah blah, and she said she is a Minneapolis librarian who is very familiar with the books. I gave her instructions on how to join the listserv, but I don't know whether I came across as a normal person or as a crazed woman on crazy tablets at a crazy
convention, so she might or might not decide to come aboard. I really need to work on my delivery so I can actually convince people that joining the listserv is a good thing, rather than making them think that they should call security and have me removed from the premises.

THE STATE FAIR

We took Andrew late yesterday afternoon. Since we plan to go at least one more time later in the week, we did not feel pressure to do everything in one fell swoop. So Andrew rode on some of the kiddie rides, and we rode the Skyride and the trams that are suspended over Machinery Hill, and the Old Mill Ride, and we ate, which is one of the primary reasons to attend the Minnesota State Fair, the second largest in the country and, without question, the best. (You Texans, or even Iowans, can try to convince me otherwise, but your efforts will be futile.) Kip had three Pronto Pups (he always dedicates the first one to his late father, holding it up to the sky in a salute before he takes his first bite). He and I shared some cheese curds and some egg rolls. I had a crepe slathered with butter and sugar. Andrew ate popcorn, a foot-long hot dog, a bag of mini-doughnuts, a cinnamon-and-sugar crepe and some free packets of Ritz crackers that were inexplicably being handed out at a radio station booth. And he drank lots of root beer. We looked in vain for the Spam booth, because Andrew, a Minnesotan to the core, has recently developed a fondness for the stuff. We promised him we'd find it when we go later this week. (This is the kind of thing you do when you have a 6-year-old who is allergic to milk and dairy products and you are pathetically grateful to find another food that he not only can eat, but will eat.)

WHAT I'M READING (when not pursuing vigorous weekend activities)

"Shoe Addicts Anonymous" by Beth Harbison, which is lightweight but very enjoyable. "Keeping the House" by Ellen Baker, which is really good. And "The Saturday Wife" by Naomi Ragen, which is surprisingly lighthearted and droll, considering that the last book of hers that I read, "The Covenant," was really *not* lighthearted and droll, to put it mildly.

And that is quite enough from me today. I wish you all a lovely week, free of Spam and geeks and pitchforks.