Ally Bean recently wrote about plot-driven versus character-driven blogs. I may wear my heart on my sleeve but I rarely talk about it here (my courtship with Tara being the exception), so – like my novels – I’m all about the plot. Especially when I’ve gone somewhere fun.
Like, for instance, the Malibu of the Midwest.
If you think Sheboygan is just trying to be cute with that nickname, nope: it’s also known as the “freshwater surfing capital of the world” because its location on the western shore of Lake Michigan, combined with prevailing winds, creates ideal surfing conditions. We didn’t see anyone hangin’ ten on Friday ’cause it was a tad chilly.
That lake breeze was blowing hard and there were scattered showers, which explains why Tara let me venture out on my own with camera in hand to explore Deland Park while she stayed in the cozy confines of the Hyundai. I ignored the chill because I really wanted to check out the wreck of the Lottie Cooper, a schooner that sank just offshore in 1894. Who doesn’t love a good shipwreck?
(Other than the people sailing on the ship, of course.)
I didn’t spend a ton of time outdoors though. Our goal by that point was to find a nice, warm, dry spot inside. You might say it was a sign.
Cold and thirsty, we cruised downtown Sheboygan in search of a suitable watering hole. Options were plentiful; we settled on Ranieri’s Four of a Kind Bar & Grill because it looked divey-but-not-too-divey. Our instincts were spot on. We grabbed seats at the bar at 3:50 and spent the next four hours playing cribbage, watching classic TV game shows and the NFL draft, and enjoying beverages and great food. Including garlic cheese curds that were especially good. Sheboygan’s third nickname is the “brat capital of the world,” and the brat patty (like a hamburger, but ground bratwurst) on a bakery fresh hard roll lived up to the hype.
We had a great time, as always.
Saturday morning, we grabbed breakfast at Field to Fork Cafe downtown. Everything is locally sourced and farm-fresh, so we were expecting greatness. And they delivered. I’m a sucker for a good hash, and their elevated version featured house-made pastrami, Yukon gold potatoes, leeks, a pepper medley, Fresno chile aioli, and two sunny side up eggs. It was phenomenal. (Tara’s Sunrise Sandwich, not pictured, was also fantastic, as was my spicy Bloody Mary.)
After breakfast, we drove north to Manitowoc. Like Sheboygan, it’s such a fun name to say out loud! Wisconsin has named their towns well. Our destination?
I’d wanted to check out the museum when Tara was in Mexico last December, because by her own admission my wife is more into art museums than nautical-themed ones, but bad weather put a kibosh on those plans. Not to fear: by the time we left a couple of hours later even she was raving over the place. The Wisconsin Maritime Museum explores the rich maritime history of Wisconsin through exciting and interactive exhibits. (Kudos to their website for the last 12 words of that sentence.) Lots of information on the Great Lakes shipbuilding industry, shipwrecks, marine engines, and more. Gordon Lightfoot would have been in seventh heaven.
The highlight for both of us was the U.S.S. Cobia, a Navy submarine that served during World War II. We took a self-guided tour through the cramped confines of the sub, marveling over the tight spaces, intricate controls, and reams of toilet paper stacked to the ceiling.
I have mad respect for submariners. I’d be way too claustrophobic to ever be able to serve on one. (We were so impressed, when we got home we watched a sub-themed movie, U-571.)
After Manitowoc, we drove home through Oshkosh so we could hit up a favorite antiques mall. Got back around 6 p.m., putting a cap on a pretty awesome mini-getaway.
My actual birthday (yesterday) was about a thousand times less exciting, other than the fact that my parents – who were due to arrive for a visit on Monday – surprised us by showing up early and taking us out to dinner. They’re in a hotel until today, then they’ll be crashing at MarTar Manor for the rest of their visit.
Speaking of birthdays, I learned that I share mine with Charlie Berens, my favorite comedian. That’s pretty cool. The only other famous people born on April 27 that I knew of growing up were Casey Kasem and Ace Frehley. And Ulysses S. Grant, if you really want to turn back the clock. Oh, and Senator Cory Booker shares my exact birthday, right down to the year. Maybe we’re twins separated at birth.
OK, probably not.
Mark My Words 
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