My little journal is feeling neglected. It’s turning brown around the edges and curling up. I’d feel guiltier if I wasn’t so busy, and Karin is nagging me to read to her from her Bionicle sticker book so who has time to post updates?

Our trip to Chicago seems to be vaporizing into the air, like the pipe dream it really was. It makes me sad, a bit, but since I was already pretty resigned to the fact that we weren’t going to make it there, it doesn’t feel like the end of the world.

It poured rain all day Tuesday while my cousin Beth and her four gorgeous, incredibly tan kids were here. We had set up a rainy-day project and all 6 of them had a blast making creatures and things from pipecleaners. We’re still stumbling over little pipecleaner penguins in unexpected corners.

Yesterday we went up to my grandma’s new place. She’s 4 blocks from the lake so we headed there directly as the sun was out and the weather was fine. Anders got the new black dragon kite up to Karin’s delight, and afterwards they swam in Lake Huron and then built a huge and fancy sandcastle, while Mom and Grandma and I sat up on the hill and relaxed in the sunshine. After dinner, my aunt and uncle showed up just in time for my mom’s HeathBar birthday cake and we had a really nice evening, complete with a ride in Mike’s convertible Mercedes. 🙂

There’s something in the air here that makes me happy. I never lived for long in Michigan, just a few weeks as an infant and summer vacations with my grandparents. During college, I was in East Lansing for 5 years, but that was it. However, all that spread-out time over the years has insinuated itself into my very bones. Do you suppose that your body recognizes the smells and air and taste of the water from the place you were born? The trees are comforting. The edges of lawns make me smile. Seeing a Big Boy or a jar of Sanders Hot Fudge or a can of Vernor’s makes me fizz with recognition and affection. I love Michigan.

Anders is golfing with Uncle Mike today and we are taking it easy. I woke up with a terrible crick in my neck so I’ve been self-medicating with one of Simone’s bag-o-beans. The sun is out although it’s a little hazy and I’m deep into a book.

I’ve been reading a lot in between things, polishing off Bill Bryson, a Diana Wynne Jones book that I swear I’ve read before under a different name, and megancrane‘s delightful English As a Second Language. Now I’m having trouble putting down The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.

Hard to believe we’re already halfway through our vacation!