The second I enter the state of Minnesota I revert back into some old habits – I whine at my mother as often as possible, mostly just to annoy her. I immediately start consuming more bacon. Personal hygiene becomes questionable the second I get up to the cabin. Twenty miles north on 35W I start referring to the Minneapolis-St. Paul area as “the cities” and stretching out my vowels enough to make two letter words (n-o) up to two syllables (noooo-ah).
My Minnesota vacation was like summer camp but with alcohol. I water skied and went horseback riding and square danced. Then I water skied again so I’d have another two days of sore muscles to lament about to my mother (she 100% did not care). I built exactly one fire and looked at the stars. I let other people cook for me and took lots of naps and sat in the sauna. I tried as hard as I could to bottle up the relaxation before I returned to D.C. to pack and move and start grad school next week.
Waterskiing is particularly difficult when the boat keeps choking and you’ve forgotten which foot you put in the front of your slalom ski. It was literally all I could do to hold on I was so tired by the end of full the lap around the lake. Muscles I forgot I had were sore the next day. But I look so athletic and Minnesotan in this picture.
While horseback riding on Friday, my new Fitbit vibrated – Spankey the horse was pleased he’d reached his 10,000 steps. Spankley the horse also accurately deduced that it had been years since I’d been riding and absolutely took advantage of me. We quickly worked out a mutually agreeable arrangement – I agreed to swat the flies on his neck, he agreed to do whatever he wanted and not throw me off. It was a win-win for both of us.
Saturday night my uncle had a party out at the farm – the farm where my mom grew up and I spent many years as a kid horseback riding and swimming in the pool with my cousins. My uncle hired a square dance caller for the festivities and the caller was not impressed with our abilities. I’m pretty sure he would audibly sigh as we’d miss the call, stop moving and just stand in a circle looking at each other. Or miss the call and just dosey doe because that’s the only move we had down cold. I think he gave up on us pretty quickly. And we gave up and switched to a 40-person game of flip cup because that’s something we’re actually good at.
My sweet grandfather is 97. He still lives above the family funeral home – which is very confusing to everyone that we’re not related to. I went out with my cousin Jean on Friday night and after one too many Jameson and gingers stood on a street corner and said, “I’m going to need you to take me back to the funeral home right now!”
“OK!” Jean said, “off to the funeral home!”
“Whoa,” said a stranger on the street, “what’s with people going to funeral homes?!”
That’s just how we roll.