In my family, our reunion involves a potluck at the town hall in the teeny-tiniest town in Iowa. We get together for a few hours so little ones can play, big ones can look at all the old pictures, and old ones can chat in a low hum about who died this year.
Eat, pray, leave.
Aaron’s family knocks the concept of the reunion on it’s ass. Two weeks of boating, beachcombing, stargazing cabin life, with a Saturday in the middle where everyone converges on a secret beach in the middle of the woods for the “reunion”. They have t-shirts, that’s all I’m saying. It’s the Woodstock of family reunions, only with less music.
Eat, play, repeat.
The downside? Most of Michigan is a wi-fi black hole. “3G” is the name of a back road. One cannot hope to do things like update blogs or upload pictures in real time. One is fortunate if 4Square works, as GPS is immobilized by Michigan’s vast technological suckitude. If you need a place to hide the body, just pick any random spot in or around northern lower Michigan.
That aside, as always, The Aaron’s Family Family Reunion was a blast. The kids went up for the first week with Aaron’s mom. Aaron and I drove up alone the day before the Secret Beach Reunion. It was the fastest 12 hour drive ever, which I credit to the absence of arguing, touching, and claims of space-hogging that would typically be coming from the back seat. I got bored enough to amuse myself by taking pictures of Aaron as he talked or concentrated on the road, in hopes of getting a great derp shot.
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| Right around the time he got pissy because he was “trying to keep the car on the road” and wanted to “get to Traverse in one piece”. Pfft. |
After a bit, there was napping, and then there was arriving, and then there was the part where I finally got to see my babies again. Bowen and I wound up kickin’ it in the car together, catching up and snacking on all the road food. Chill vacations are best.
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| Yay! My Guys!! |
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