King of the Midwest. And a Moose Straddling a Volkswagen. - Cheaper Than Therapy Cheaper Than Therapy

I am now in the waterpark capital of the world. No, seriously, that’s like, A THING.

Yes. We are here for 4 fun-filled days at a resort that has at least 800 water slides. And this afternoon I had to spend 3 hours on the lazy river in an inner-tube built for two with my son and my desperately-in-need-of-being-shaven legs. I am horrified that those three teenage boys who were lazing beside us had to see them. I have bought two things since I have gotten here – a bag of salt-water taffy the size of my head and a razor. Tomorrow I will go back to being horrified that the teenage boys need to look at my belly pooch. As it should be.

It’s 8:54pm and I should be sitting and getting ready to drool over Don Draper and yet I am sitting in the Glacier Canyon Lodge celebrating my Pirate’s Cove mini-golf victory over my parents and my kids and checking out Chicago real estate. I’m mostly kidding about the Chicago real estate (I’m not at all kidding about the victory. I totally beat my kids at mini-golf. Take that, kids) but I did spend a somewhat surreal weekend in Chicago this past week. I left Chicago in 1996 after graduating high school and have not really been back since. I did once take Emily as an infant to our (kidless at the time) friends and she managed to pee all over their entire apartment and I was probably so mortified that I fled back over the border. They now have five kids, so Emily could probably pee all over their house and they wouldn’t be as horrified. Only, she’s, um 9, so, there’s that. But, cards finally fell into place and I was able to spend a short time in West Rogers Park.

I won’t lie. I walked with Becca for about, um, 8 blocks, at the most, and we ran into at least ten people I went to high school with. Maybe more. Like 87. It was so nice to see people and do the short, short, short what are you up and smoosh some of the their cute babies. It was also slightly embarrassing because had I known I would be having a mini-high school reunion, I probably would have put on some lip gloss. Or at least brushed my hair. So, on one hand I’m all jealous that everyone moved back to Chicago…and their kids are all going to school and camp and the park with each other. How nice would it be to watch a second generation Ali’s high school friends all grow up together? But, then again, I kind of like the fact that in Toronto I can run into Tim Horton’s in flannel pj pants and a wifebeater and not bump into anyone I know. But visiting? WAS SO NICE. And my hosts were very understanding of the fact that my son occasionally comes to the Shabbat table dressed like a giant plush dinosaur and that my children are endless eating machines.

Also, there was lovely smelling lotion in the bathroom, and we even got our own hand towels to dry our hands with. They were even monogrammed. Wrong. But monogrammed, nonetheless. Oh, and they sent us home with three cucumbers and a tomato from their garden. Parting gifts. Also, we got the full Chicago experience complete with power outtages and a/c breakages and live open wires and Chicago Police (no Sergeant Petersons, though) and car accidents and 501s on giant ladies who require more than one set of handcuffs to fit around her chubby, drunken wrists.

So, yes, Chicago was lovely.

But not as lovely as Wisconsin Dells.

Because they didn’t have any of THESE in Illinois…