lapacifidora | Let's hear it for cheese!

No, I don't mean the type where people act ridiculously.

I mean real cheese: Curdled milk solids separated and compressed into a block or wheel. It's got to be one of the few examples of the bacterial process that most people can get behind. (Lactose intolerant follks have my sympathy, but it's impossible trying to explain the beauty of huntsman or camembert to someone who's never tasted it.)

Why am I soliloquizing about cheese? Well, I'm in Wisconsin: Apparently, it's kind of their thing here.

We left around 9:30 a.m., and headed west on the Turnpike till we crossed the Indiana border. (Number of accidents seen before the Turnpike: One. Number of accidents seen on the Turnpike: Two)

I found myself trying to stay awake long enough to call my mum and let her know we were on our way, but I wanted nothing so much as to let the chair back down and take a cat nap. However, when I heard the opening notes of "Ohio," I decided to take it as an omen of sorts. (Mostly because I believe in that sort of thing.)

But once I'd checked in with mum, I saw no reason to stay awake any longer. We finally stopped for lunch at a rest stop, where, I'm a little ashamed to admit, I chose to go with a Happy Meal over anything else. (I'm less ashamed to admit that I really like the toy I got with my food. It's a water canon, and I think I'll give it to bitesize so he can annoy the cats and dogs once he has motor skills and, y'know, a sense that annoying the animals can be fun.)

We stopped for gas at the Costco in Orland Park, Ill., which was surprisingly nice looking compared to the one I'm used to now - and the one I grew up with. Take a look for yourself:

It even had fancy metal decoration things on the sides, and columns with arbor-like rails over the top.

On the way out, there was a Winnebago towing a vintage black sedan. Awesome car: Crappy driver. Dude didn't know his left from his right and kept using the wrong signals. Then we saw a man doing something in a field with some horses.

No. Get your mind out of the gutter. He appeared to be using the horses to pull some sort of contraption that was spreading something over the crops. Then we passed signs for Notre Dame, South Bend and the College Football Hall of Fame. I couldn't help but wonder where Regis was, though I would never want to run across him in his lair.

(I also saw a Volvo sedan with an Ontario license plate: I took it as another good omen.)

I also finally finished reading "Gods Behaving Badly," by Marie Phillps: It was slow to get into and the ending felt a little preemptive, but for a first novel, it was surprisingly fun. Then I moved on to finishing up the collection of Joss Whedon's "Fray," which was awesome and made me wish there were more than eight issues. :(

We passed signs for both Downer's Grove (which sounded depressing and fruity) and Rockford (which made me think I was going to see a billboard with James Garner at any point), but we finally made it to Wisconsin.

Which brings me back to the cheese. Cheese in this state comes in all manner of forms: cheese-getti (like spaghetti), cheese sticks, string cheese, cheese curds, blocks of cheese, wheels of cheese, and, yes, even cheese in the shape of cows.

I'd kind of like to get several of them, give them names and let them graze in a field. Then cut their heads off and make a sandwich.

So, now I'm stuffed after a BLT and a *huge* slice of Dutch Apple Pie (which wasn't that great, proving once again that size is not everything), and looking at this out my window.

Up again tomorrow at 7 a.m., on the road as quickly as possible and ever westward. Hopefully, I'll have time to write a little something extra for some friends and access to wireless again. (I cannot wait to be back in regular civilization where I'll have access and time to get back to writing.)

See y'all on the flipside.