Vacation in the Mitten

We just got back from several days in glorious, wonderful, fabulous Michigan. Western Michigan, where I could go for a jog in the middle of the day without dying from the heat but couldn't sit around the outdoor fireplace at night without being thoroughly explored by various and sundry representatives of Class Insecta.  Or rather Phylum Arthropoda.  All things considered, I figure I came out well ahead. It was great to spend time in a rented house with my whole family, watching my girls play with their cousins while catching up with my sisters and cooking food for my parents (for a change!).

"What was your favorite part of our vacation?" I asked at dinner tonight.

"Going to the beach!" said Ada.

"Riding in the wagon!" said Ellie. (That would be on the not exactly arduous 2-block stroll to and from the beach. There was room for my 6-year-old in the wagon because my sister's baby refused to ride. She preferred to run pell-mell screaming, "Water! Water!" until she face planted on concrete or sand.)

"I don't want to talk right now!" That would be Paul listing his not-quite-favorite part of vacation. After several days in a row of cool, breezy Michigan running - including jogging on sand - he came home with an excruciating back spasm. And apparently having me step on the sore spots repeatedly (he asked! I promise! I'm not gratuitously cruel!) wasn't the best thing for him.

Alas. Next year we'll shop for souvenirs.  (Pictures tomorrow.)