During Family Vacay 2010 we went out to breakfast one day.

Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty serves all-you-can-eat breakfast for . . . a hefty price, let’s say. But it was worth it for the doughnuts alone. I hereby nominate those doughnuts to become the State song. Or the State bird. Or the State whatever, as long as Wisconsin gives them a position of honor, merit, and blatant publicity. These doughnuts make Wisconsin a better place to live. In fact, they almost make up for the population of mosquitoes and spiders that this state also plays host to . . . almost. Let’s not go too wild here, now.

Let’s move past the doughnuts . . . for now. Paul Bunyan’s eggs are OK, their sausages are delectable, and their pancakes ain’t bad either. All the food is brought to the table family-style, and served on tin plates and cups. Kind of like you’re camping. Cast iron cookware hangs on all the walls, tempting you to make a grab for that gigantic Dutch oven that you really don’t think you can live without anymore. Amidst the rustic decor, fellow tourists chuggin’ down the coffee, and gift shop rarities, I learned a series of important lessons that I decided to bring to you on this lovely  morning.

Lesson #1: Always give Steve the doughnuts first. He is full of dormant violence which starts boiling to the surface when he experiences the lack of doughnuts.

And don’t think his wife is any different either.

Lesson #2: when seated between a hungry sister and a hungry husband, use your fork to intimidate them into keeping their grubby little mitts off the freshly arrived scrambled eggs.

You have a right to those scrambled eggs. You are entitled to the full amount of those scrambled eggs. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. This is the land of opportunity! And when your opportunity is threatened, you must defend it with any utensils at hand.

Lesson #3: On your way back to your house from the Paul Bunyan experience, always stop at the local open-air flea market.

I mean, who couldn’t use some ‘foreign coins’? I know I’m always in need of all kinds of currency when I take my spontaneous jet-setter trips to Cancun or Barbados. And ‘rock slabs’? C’mon, you know you could use one of those to a) bake some gourmet bread on, b) lay the cornerstone for the hand-built mansion you’re constructing in your spare time, or c) bring to your weight-lifting class for extra street cred.

However, when you see visor caps with fur growing out of them, you must run far, far away.

Don’t be like me. Don’t make the same mistakes I made. The green fur is not “cute and funny” as you may think in the midst of your shopping high–it’s ugly and frightening, as you will discover as soon as you’ve spent $10 on it.

And no, I didn’t purchase the cap. It’s just a hypothetical scenario.

Lesson #4: Something about my sister and Steph being really cute and looking really good in shorts.

Note to self: investigate connection between cuteness and petite stature.

Lesson #5: When someone asks you “Whaddya think? Should I buy this rusty old piece of antique something or another?”

That’s your cue to start screaming at the top of your lungs “Oh the folly!!”, wrench the object from their hands, and take off running. Throw the object into the deepest lake you come across, smash it with that rock slab you purchased earlier, or bury it in the deepest hole you can carve out of the earth with your bare hands in the 1.2 minutes you have before the irate shopkeeper catches up with you. Your friend/relative is counting on you to save him or her from a poor shopping choice, and no measure is too extreme to ensure they don’t have this sorry piece of crap kicking around for the rest of their lives.

And for the record, this situation is also hypothetical; Erica in no way considered buying this. Plus, with a little paint it could be super cute.

Lesson #6: The stones and beads will try to draw you in. Don’t buy them! Unless you’re a disciplined jewelry-maker, they will just sit around looking bright and pretty in your drawers, on your desk, or in your refrigerator.

Lesson #7: If you come across a small clown, invite him to sit on your shoulder.

If you don’t, he may become your mortal enemy. And nobody wants a miniature clown creeping into their bedroom at night with a very tiny axe.

Lesson #8: don’t buy that antique book. It smells kinda funny.

Lesson #9: happily married parents = I love it.

See you all tomorrow for a delectable stew recipe!