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I was going to write about all of things I did over my vacation. About how I went fishing with my stepfather. We each took a kayak out on the lake we live on. Fishing with someone while you're in different boats is something of a complicated process, especially when the other boat is a kayak. And even more complicated when the fact that my stepdad had the bait and the net and everything but my fishing pole. For those that may not know, fishing in a kayak, while an interesting process, is quite an effective one. There aren't any noises to scare the fish away like motors or feet hitting the bottom of a metal or fiberglass boat. So, fish seem to be quite easy to catch. Also, we were trolling along with the breeze, so we had a tendency to get separated. Now, the lake we live on isn't big, but the night we went out there were two or three other boats out trying their luck. And suffice it to say that they didn't have any. So, when Phil (my stepdad) tries to get my attention on the QT because he's caught a fish (a fisherman never wants the other boats to know that he's got one--they'll hone in) and I start paddling over to help because he's got a nothern pike and they've got wicked teeth, the next thing I know we're being crowded with three other boats all trying to hone in on our action. This would normally have pissed us off, but within the next ten minutes, I'd caught a monster pike and so had Phil. We paddled home in time to catch Jeopardy. And those guys were out there all night and didn't catch a thing.

And then I was thinking of writing about how my MOM and I drove down to Interlochen to go to a Huey Lews & The News concert. (What exactly are you looking at?) About how we noticed this couple about three rows up and just to our left that were totally rocking out (to Huey Lewis) and laughed and laughed at them shaking their middle-aged booties. And then about how halfway through the concert, my MOM gets this look on her face and grabs my arm and says "Kasey..." at which I shoot her a glance and she points at the rocking couple and says "That is Father Jack and his wife." Our Episcopal priest. Rocking out like no one else in the arena. And then I was going to tell you about how despite the fact that I'm 24 and this was Huey Lewis & The News, an extremely family-friendly band, I was suddenly mortified when they started singing "60 Minute Man" acappella while my mother was sitting to one side of me, and my priest on the other.

Then I was thinking about complaining in depth about how you CAN NOT find Coke in Northern Michigan. About how when I was a kid, you could order Coke at any restaurant and suddenly when I leave town they switch to Pepsi. Everywhere. And about how I was ready to shoot someone by the time I left.

Another entry I was going to write about was how I was attacked by the screendoor at my father's house and was bleeding all over the place so I had my dad check my blood sugar for me. About how it was a little too high and how much that scares the shit out of me. About how my father and grandfather both developed type 1 diabetes at the age of 30 and how both my sister and I know out of a kind of morbid certainty that we will too.

I was also going to write about how damn long the days are there. I'd forgotten that the sun comes up at 4:45am and doesn't go down until 10:00pm. About how I've always known that living above the 45th parallel (closer to the north pole than the equator) caused long days like this but didn't get freaked out by it until I'd moved to SoCal.

I was thinking about writing about how great it was to look up at the night sky and be able to see the Milky Way and a billion other stars. About how black the night is away from the city and how nice it was to see more stars in the sky than riding around in limos.

I was going to write about how people finally, finally grow up. About how the two guys I went to high school with that hated me (with equal loathing from my side) the most, turned out to be the two nicest guys at the wedding. About how one of them came right up to me and gave me a hug the first night I was home, and how the other one picked up my bartab without a second thought. About how refreshing it is to not have any leftover enemies in my hometown and have my faith in humanity restored by Joe and Dave of all goddamn people.

I was also going to write about how hard it was to realize as I sat on our dock to read a book that it was the first time I was sitting thereby myself. I didn't realize how hard that would be emotionally, and how no matter how many times I tell myself that he was just a dog, that I'll never be able to accept that because he was a friend.

And then I was going to have an entire entry about how I decided to go up to Waugochance Point and go camping by myself at Wilderness State Park. About how difficult it is to set up a tent by youself especially when it is older than you are. About how I thought I packed a chair and unfurled a table so that I had no where to sit by the campfire. About how I used all of my kindling one night and had to start a fire like a caveman the next morning just so I could eat breakfast. (Thank you MS 103!!) About how I hiked a few miles to this badass boulder in the middle of the woods that was just deposited there by a glacier 10,000 years ago. About how my trip to the beach turned out to be long, harrowing, and also left me with an amazing tan.

And finally about how camping with a dog is fairly challenging in and of itself, but camping with a Newfoundland presents the camper with a whole new set of challenges, not the least of which is the fact that the gigantic dog is similar in size and color to a bear and can scare the living crap out of children in the dark. Thank God I didn't take both of 'em.

I was going to write about all of this and more.

But then, I kind of already did.

"Let me get this straight: you think I'm evil if I take a group of teenage girls on a camping trip and I *don't* touch them?" -- Giles, Buffy