Camping. It's an Adventure.

Okay, only after I wrote that title down did it sound so hokey.  Whatevs, it's official now kids.

That was quite a few days.  I got sick.  Sore throat, stuff/runny nose, pressure headaches, the whole business.  Then I got Rachael sick.  Then we came home, still a little sick, and we have a meeting tomorrow afternoon.

From another angle, I got to spend an incredible amount of time with my nephew.  He's rapidly approaching two years old, and on top of his incredible athletic skill (like kicking a ball straighter than adult) that I've mentioned before, he's got a burgeoning vocabulary.  I think it's fascinating.  For the most part he sounds, in my dad's words, like he's speaking an Eastern European language. He says "Mommy" when he really wants someone to help him with something.  Something it goes where please should go, or help me, or "Grandpa," "Grandma," or other names.  "Bye" is both "See you later," and "I'm back!"  And with all those weirdnesses, he has some really solid phrases down, like "I'm goin' campin'," "This is round," and others.  I've said on multiple occasions how smart he think he is.  But a developing child is a lot less straightforward than a computer.  Smarter, slower, faster, more obtuse, more nuanced.  All of it.

Also, they get to wear cuter shirts.  Giraffes with shades man, giraffes with shades.

Camping is a to-do.  You take a lot more crap than you'd think you need, and without it you starve or freeze or roast.  Your tent gets wet no matter what you do.  You poop and shower in public buildings of various repair.  And you sleep in view of the Mackinac Bridge and across the way the moon sprays orange-cream light over Lake Huron.

Screw the internet, the last few days were awesome.

Screw face punches too.  It wasn't laziness that kept me from blogging.  It was wilderness.  Wilderness and Mackinac Island Fudge.  Blueberry.

Writhe in your jealousy.  Writhe.