Cheese Royalty.

The Cheese Queen & Princess.

Our toes are just beginning to thaw, I've got a shelf full of vintage treasures, and I found a cheese curd in my pocket.

We've safely made it back from Wisconsin.

Now, back in the old days, way before I was married to a Midwesterner and was simply a gal from the 413, I couldn't have differentiated between Wisconsin and Iowa on a map. Really. Granted, I'm kinda terrible at geography, but in Massachusetts (a puzzle piece of a state so teensy that you could step back, squint your eyes and pinch it from across the room) all of those states Over There are kind of one big nebulous corn (or cheese) borderin' square. Even the ones that are decidedly not squares.

But I married a Schoeny. And to a Schoeny (or Verkamp, to be fair), Wisconsin is a Narnia/Disneyland combo of epic summer proportions. (And yes, that's 'summer' as a verb.) And I was wholly unconvinced. Until the summer of '07 when, as a fresh-faced fiancée, I accompanied P.J. to a week of family togetherness in neighboring lake houses.

I kayaked every day- at least three times. I pretended to swim- in the way I do that's not actual swimming (I don't even know if I can anymore)- even though I still do not care for the feel of lake bottom on any part of my being. I rode the well-loved and oft-lamented oldie bike Limey. (With our hoodies and bare feet, Peej and I could have been just another two kiddos at camp.) I ate fresh produce and more cheese than was wise. We had bonfires and bottles of wine on the dock, went stargazing and yard-saling. Fireworks were viewed from boats. I found a cove that I pretended to have discovered (though, in all honesty, I do this all over the world.)

In short, I dug the place.

So this past weekend, when we were invited to spend time with P.J.'s Mom, sister and nephew (the guy born just five days before Nora), we were stoked to take our little Bitsy up North.

It was a little colder than it had been a few summers ago- but it just gave me an excuse to break out the baby hats with animal ears. And sure, Nora's lunch one afternoon consisted of me feeding her leftover pizza in the backseat of our car...but I know she had a good time.

The kids attempted to toddle in a pumpkin patch. They crawled on piers (and each other). They shared pack n' play time, all of their toys, and more than a few of their germs (Sorry, Dor.) The grownups shared lovely meals, crisp Fall afternoons, and a spin in the sauna. (I could have happily slept there.)

And we got to go antiquing- one of those clichéd activities that women supposedly love and men are obligated to grumble about. But it's true- I love poking around antique and vintage stores. P.J....tolerates them. Nora thinks they're awesome, but sadly, they do not feel the same way about her. So yesterday, Peej gave me the most fabulous of gifts- he took Nora to go visit some family friends in town...and left me to chill at an antique emporium FOR AN HOUR. (I actually teared up. And my heart palpitated with excitement. Seriously. I've so rarely felt that fondly about another human being.)

And it was great. Overpriced as heck, but great. Especially since I found The Find of All Finds.

Lemme take you back a little- back when I was a kid, I loved having tea parties and using fancy glasses and plates. My mother- possessing a fabulous assortment of such pieces (not to mention the patience required of a mother to a fancy child) let me use these lovely things for special occasions. She also let me arrange her cabinets and ooh and ahh over the very fanciest. (I LOVE to arrange fancy things. Have you seen my dining room? Or living room? Or- heck, the upstairs?)

But there was a set of glassware that trumped everything else. Frosted Libbey iced tea glasses, all with a different brightly-colored carousel animal. A green and black zebra, chartreuse lion, reddish orange giraffe, yellow lion, pink elephant, teal deer...and a red pony. I loved the red pony best- loved it. And I would use these with all of the reverence and care of the queen's finest china.

Until the day that I dropped and broke one.

And it was the red pony.

I cried and cried. I don't even remember my mother being angry with me- I think she knew how heartbroken I was, and that it was an awful punishment to never again be able to hold that wonderful glass. And we moved on (somehow) and she even promised me the set to keep way down the road.

But now, here I was in the antique emporium.

Looking at the red pony on a frosted carousel glass.

And yes, there was also a blue tiger, an orange and tan pony, a pink and red elephant, and an orange and black zebra (how many did they make?)- but I am not even the littlest bit ashamed to admit that I wept in the middle of a Wisconsin antique store. And I called my mother. She was excited (but really, I don't think my level of excitement can be topped by anyone, ever.) And I finally feel like I have atoned for the horrible crime I committed back when I was eight years old.

And I have my red pony back.

Best. Trip. Ever.

And sure, we took a long overdue trip to the Mars Cheese Castle (it is a CASTLE MADE OF CHEESE- you cannot ever begin to convince me differently) and I felt like royalty with my bag of cheese curds...

...but seriously? The trip was made when I found that glass.

For two dollars and fifty cents. The one item in the store not marked for a hundred bucks.

Making it an act of Fate.

Or maybe an act of Wisconsin.