"You mean like on vacay?"

The house is in a muddle, suitcases and duffel bags and enormous backpacks littering the floor. It's vacation season, and Ian has been looking forward to this day all summer. He was in charge of selecting food, and he scoured the aisles at Gander Mountain for the most delectable of freeze-dried concoctions: pasta primavera, lasagna with meat sauce, eggs and bacon. He wanted to get five pounds of beef jerkey at the Sausage Shop in New Ulm, but was satisfied with two upon discovering its cost: $16.99 a pound. He spent the entire afternoon packing and repacking his bag, trying to get ziplock-wrapped toilitries to nestle comfortably against a collapsed tent. He was so excited, he nearly forgot to bring socks. And I'm sure socks will be necessary, what with those hiking boots and all. The destination? Wind River Peak, in the mountains of Wyoming. Four days and five nights in the wilderness, away from civilization, with only nature and an iPod for company. It'll be great.

For Ian, of course. And for Pat, and Tom and Dan and their father Jim, and Chris and his dad Jay. I, of course, would never last on such a venture! Freeze-dried eggs? Tents? A LACK OF BATHROOM FACILITIES? You didn't think I was going there, did you?

I'm going to Duluth. Well, actually, to Beaver Bay, about an hour north of Duluth. Michal and I are leaving tonight for Lake City to meet Ali. We'll set out bright and early tomorrow morning for the five hour excursion upwards. Mmm spending the entire day in the van - I can't wait. But the weekend should be lovely, filled with lighthouse touring and berry picking and ferry riding. Four days and three nights in the middle of nowhere, settled in a lodge, with a fireplace and a DVD player for company. It'll be greater.