Home

One of the hardest parts of starting the Aqualand Ale House has been separation. Not unlike the years when my husband deployed to a war zone, he has gone first into the place and space that we plan to retire to in the future. My career is in full swing, and I need to continue to work to ensure the safety blanket of one solid income as we take this huge gamble and venture into the craft beer and gastro-pub industry in the beautiful north. It was my idea that it be Boulder Jct. Those of you who know us know that I have been whining about how badly I want to "go home" ever since I left for college- more than a few seasons ago. That my husband was willing to head in that direction means everything to me. What is interesting is that as of today, we sort of have three homes; the one we have lived in for the last 15 years, the one we built as a three season weekender in the great north woods, and the rental we just moved into this weekend that will give us a warm place to winter. Throughout my husband's military career, we have had a few times of cross country moves- usually temporary, but I learned early how important it is to make each place feel like home. As a designer, the worst torture of all is to spend any length of time in someone else's space. When I was in sales, there were many times of overnight travel. I packed a candle, a throw, a craft project-usually some sort of small scale needle craft, pictures of the family and an exercise DVD. Upon entry, I would set the lighting up to something adequate but soothing, light my candle to make it smell familiar in the space, set the heating unit to fan to drown out the ambient sounds from the hall or highway and then I would put on my sweats, curl up in my throw on the bed and eat my Outback steak house steak and salad take out, my fazolis chicken ceasar salad, or the like. The best! So this weekend, as I moved our basic essentials over to the winter home, I grabbed a throw and some pillows for the couch, our magazine basket and those six books I never got read this busy summer, the scrabble board and a Christmas puzzle, some candles, some small scatter rugs and two pictures- one a replica of an old lake superior south shore map and one an artist print of a smiling otter, picked out in England specifically for out little cabin in the woods which I dubbed Otter Dance. Last night after the ale house closed, we curled up with the latest "Ice Age" movie and everything felt like home. My husband had reminded me that anything we bring in, we have to haul back out in the spring, so to be selective. I reminded him that he always felt better in spaces that had been 're-touched'. He reminded me of his years spent in tents, temporary barracks etc. stating that he could live fine in a spartan environment. My theory is that even when people cannot pin down why they feel good, a feel good space has an affect on everything else. I am guessing that my husband doesn't often light the candles when I am not there, but I am glad to know he can if he wants to. I said we sort of have three homes. Actually, I realize now that I have left out the most important one- the fourth one. The Aqualand Ale House feels like home to us. We intended to have a business, but we have been blessed to find a new home. For instance, this Saturday night was so delightful for me. I was not on the schedule to work, but wanted to sit and just be with my friends and my husband. Upon entering, I was first amazed to find one of my husband's military buddies sitting at the bar. I thought he lived on the west coast, but he has recently relocated to Wisconsin and had driven two hours out of his way (while headed somewhere else)just to see us. We have the closeness with him of a friend from the war zone, a close bond like none other and it was a blessing to see him again. After taking a seat at the bar, I began to talk with a wonderful couple who have become faithful regulars. My husband walked through to Ale House, stopping at each table to check on our guests, and staying to chat often. People love him, and so many are repeat guests, they begin to feel like friends and family hanging out with us in our living room- the biggest difference is that this particular home has twenty taps! Later, a gentleman sat down on my other side and as we talked, he realized that I was the daughter of his old buddy and fishing guide Bruce. We talked easily as he ate dinner and enjoyed a beer, sharing stories or those we have in common. I recognized that I had made a new friend that night too. The definition of home is a place where we feel sheltered and safe, where we recharge our batteries, and where we share our lives with family and friends. Yep- for us, the Aqualand Ale House is all of these. So I amend my count- four homes is more accurate.