In case you can't see the detail here, that is Steven, holding up a Cheeto to a ravenous seagull.

My family has a thing about camping. For as long as I can remember, we have been campers. My old grandma, my youngest sister in diapers, we have just always loved to camp.

We especially flock to Northern Michigan, where you are always just a short drive to the beach and lighthouses and MACKINAC. That's pronounced "Mackinaw." Yes, I know the second "c" makes no sense. Just go with it, ok? Mackinac is an island and fudge and a bridge (also called "The Mighty Mac") and a bit of a tourist trap but if I had to pick a place to spend my retirement (a mere 37 years away), that would be it.

This is Nick's first trip over the Mackinac Bridge. See the joy Mackinac can bring?

I started this post to just write about that first picture, which is a time when we were enjoying pasties in a park just off Lake Michigan and Steven decided to feed the seagulls (even though it was clearly posted NOT to feed the seagulls) and Nick announced to the family, "You know that's technically illegal" and sent my family into hysterics.

Though my intentions were pure, this post is once again edging towards that happy place where the majority of my writing has gone lately, the place where I say I MISS MICHIGAN! The south is ok but it's just not home. I apologize. Once the new year begins, I should have my fix in for a while.