Homeward Bound

It's time to...

Michigan is in the rear-view mirror now, and we are headed back to Florida. Having just moved from Michigan four months ago after nearly 50 years of calling it home, I was worried a return visit so soon would make us miss it all over again and force us to second guess our decision to move in the first place. Fortunately, a Detroit heat wave that was hotter and moister than a camel’s nut sack and a pseudo-stepmother that was drunker and dumber than a box of vodka-soaked rocks made our re-departure surprisingly free of remorse. 

Would you buy a used car from any one of these people?

Yes, there are many people we miss dearly, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, and we’re ready to begin fostering big hearts full of fondness from the solitude of our Naples lanai, 1,500 miles away. 

I always try to color coordinate with
my rodents.

By the time we get home, we’ll have touched something like 19 states, paid about 40 hotel bills, driven over 9,000 miles, drained skanky cooler water dozens of times, and posed next to countless, giant statues of wildlife. I don’t know if those statistics at all make the trip sound appealing or abhorrent, but I can honestly say we had a blast. Incidentally, we also have enough Hilton shampoo to fill a kiddie pool. 

Of course travel is hollow without personal growth. To that end, here are a few things we learned on this trip:

Michigan still has the shittiest roads (and some of the highest gas prices) in the US. 

When you see the phrase ‘free continental breakfast,’ you can accurately replace the word ‘continental’ with ‘coughed upon by un- showered strangers.’

Reliable wi-fi is possibly more important than drinking water. 

Wisconsin still does cheese just a little better than everyone else. 

Todd Donnelly is still a rock star. 

Our Tang-colored, embarrassment of a president will win another term. 

Northern Wisconsin strippers can make up to $200 a night, but I’m pretty sure that also includes a few hours of splitting firewood. 

Panama City is gross. 

All over the heartland, there’s a lot of money being spent on anti-abortion billboards. Roe v Wade via Mass Media. 

We have pretty awesome nieces and nephews. 

The next time I see a drunk person yelling at a building, I will have the presence of moment to video it. 

Fran Sulak makes the best coconut macaroons. 

If you don’t eat beef, smoke, and drink & drive, Wyoming is probably not for you. 

All over this great country, people are fundamentally the same and want the same things. Casinos, mostly. 

Due to a quirky licensing law, Fargo has the only chain drugstore in the country that can’t legally sell drugs. (But they still process film, so there's that.)

Rapid City, SD is a place you should really check out. 

People that run legal marijuana dispensaries should not open at 8am, as they are typically not morning people.

Antelope are as prevalent as fruit flies and could easily solve world hunger. 

The Vinyl Taco is just about the greatest name for a Mexican restaurant. 

My oldest sister loves anchovies. I did not know that.

Hotels that give out free, fresh-baked cookies are the best hotels in the world. 

Idaho is way more than just potatoes. 

Kim Skarritt is a saint. 

If there’s a day when your back really hurts and your knee is sprained, going on a tour a few thousand feet into a cramped cave is probably not the best idea for a day trip. 

It’s time for the craft beer fad to die. 

Turtle racing is a thing.

Bay City, Michigan is no longer the shithole it was when I was a kid. Flint, of course, is more so. 

Alabama does BBQ!

Like Jesus, Chick-fil-A is everywhere and of a similar utility to me. 

Doing laundry while on vacation is inherently wrong. 

People tailgate way more than they used to. 

Over time, hotel toilet paper changes you, and not for the better. 

The End.

A Dog's Life

After we left the strip club capital of the US (and obsessively and compulsively bathed ourselves in hand sanitizer), we made short order of the UP. This is very familiar stomping grounds for us, so aside from the obligatory stops for giant cinnamon rolls, more pasties, and smoked fish, we blew on through, barely pausing to throw fare money at the Mackinac Bridge attendant. 

Our next stop was Kalkaska, in Michigan’s lower pennisula. Kalkaska was selected soley on its proximity to The Silver Muzzle Cottage, which is an old age home for discarded dogs with serious health problems. The woman that runs the place, Kim Skarritt, is an amazingly generous, compassionate, and altruistic dog lover who has chosen to devote her days to caring for dogs that are in a very vulnerable, difficult, and expensive time of their life cycle. Short of my wife, I’ve never met anyone who cares more for animals. After reading about her in a Detroit Free Press article, one of Wife’s must-do items on this trip was to volunteer some time at Silver Muzzle, and we made that happen. 

I, on the other hand, do not consider cleaning up after rickety, leaky dogs a bucket-list vacation activity. It’s not that I don’t support those who do, it's just that, personally, I’m kind of a heartless dick. If you’re a regular reader, this is not news to you. Anyway, since my morning was free, I took the opportunity to explore Kalkaska. If you’ve ever been, then you already know I would have been better off mopping dog spooge. 

Karma. 

Kalkaska, if I’m not mistaken, is the Ojibwe word for “needs gentrification.”  Unlike the nearby towns of Petosky, Bay Harbor, and Charlevoix, Kalkaska was apparently not waterfront enough to warrant a stop by the locust-like swarm of BMW and Lexus owners that transformed the areas directly to the north. Aside from the giant statue of a trout on main street (and lets be perfectly clear: I’m not at all knocking giant fish statues), Kalkaska hasn’t changed a bit since I was a kid. Same thrift shops. Same vacant store fronts. 

So, in summary...

Giant Fish statues: good.

Kalkaska: meh.

The Silver Muzzle Lodge: worthy of your donations (seriously, send them a few bucks).

Sadly, they were out of camel that day/

Do I detect master race undertones in this slogan?

Rock on.

OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG! The mother ship!

In the city, sneakers hanging over utility wires generally indicate a drug dealer lives nearby. I don't know what this tree in Kalkaska signifies other than a possible meth lab run by Keebler elves.