Summer in Northern Michigan

Lake Mitchell ~ Cadillac, MI

So, it's not officially summer yet, I know this. But until recently we hadn't seen the sun in nearly six months, and there is no snow on the ground, and you can no longer walk across the lake successfully, so- we're calling it summer.

Summer in Northern Michigan is nothing short of glorious. People from the Detroit area (downstaters, we call 'em) have been apprised of this information for years, and many summer or weekend up here regularly. We have people who live in Florida or Arizona during the winter months, coming home to green grass and twinkling lakes for the short hot season. We have people who just rent a 'cabin' for a week or two, and we have die-hards who set up camp the first weekend the parks open and stay until the snow flies.

For anyone remotely interested in visiting this area, here are a few little bits of local stuff:

Playing in one of Cadillac's many parks

If you plan your trip right, you'll be able to hit one of the many festivals that dot the Midwest throughout summer. We have the National Cherry Festival in July- with spectacular food and decent entertainment. There is also a Dulcimer festival, a Lilac festival, and plenty of others. These are all within a couple of hours of here, and Cadillac is a great and economical starting point to get to these events.

Of course, being the land of this many lakes, there is plenty of fishing, boating, waterskiing, and all of those other things that I have never bothered to do. Maybe it's time I got out there and claimed my Michigan heritage, huh!?

Sleeping Bear Dunes, Michigan

Cadillac is divided into two parts: Cadillac, and Cadillac West. To get to the main part of town, you can come in on Business 131, exit off of the 131 expressway, or come in from the east on M-55. The main part of town has modern chain lodging, shopping, dining, and entertainment venues, as well as a charming downtown district.

You can get to Cadillac West from M-115, or come in from the west on M-55. If you are already in the main part of Cadillac, you can drive around the lake to get to the westside, or take Sunnyside Dr, Division Rd, or Thirteenth St to M-115.

Cadillac West has more lodging, including the Sands which sits right on the water and has a little bar. There you will also find another bowling alley, a skating rink, more waterfront that you'll know what to do with!

Staying in or around the Cadillac, MI area is easy as there are plenty of places, from budget options like RV parks and cabins, to better lodging like Hermann's European Inn, with a wonderful restaurant and café below the rooms. There are numerous tiny rentals, a lovely State Park with hookups, and my couch. Kidding. Any of you show up here with your sleeping bag and... well, I really don't know what I'd do!

Food is abundant, as one of Michigan's official pastimes is eating. Just look at us. Ugh. Anyhow, since I'm one of the foodies, I may as well advise you on gastronomical entities. Dining on the westside tends to be a bit better. There is Lakeside Charlies, which sits on the water and serves a pretty broad menu of nicer foods and wine. The Marina sits on the other lake and has a nice boat theme inside, very comfortable dining. Italian food is their main fare. The Timbers is a little hike north out of town, but worth the drive for their most excellent prime rib and beer. A recent addition this year, Da Dawg House has an unfortunate name but decent coneys and grease-down breakfasts.

Travelling into the main part of town, avoiding at all costs the chains, we have Herradura's Mexican Restaurant on the south end of town. This is locally owned, with excellent Mexican food and great service. Further into town- you'll pass it if you're not looking- there is a little convenience store called G & D's. They make pizza there, and if you want to try it, I recommend buying it by the slice. Ofr some reason, the whole pizzas aren't nearly as good. I hear they put beer in their crust, but am not sure. Either way, their by-the-slice pizza is cheap, hot, and yummy!

Downtown has a few options, not the least of which is the newer Shay Station. Although the food is mediocre, the atmosphere is lively and pleasant. You can get a decent cup of tea there, read a book, listen to live music on the weekends, and shop for little gifty things that are often found in these kind of places.
The Sweet Shop is owned by a truly sweet family, and their local confections are pleasing, priced well, and fun to shop for.
The Blue Heron is absolutely one of our favorite places to eat in town. They have a wonderful breakfast, doughnuts, bread, cake, and homemade granola. I'd pass on the muffins, but their soups and sandwiches have never failed to please. Try a nutty donut- a local favorite! The Blue Heron uses higher quality flour, no preseratives, and ethics when they cook and serve. If you don't mind the clatches of old people that hang out all day, you will love this local favorite.

Of the three Chinese restaurants in town, House of Hunan seems to have the highest quality of food, and is a rather pleasant place to while away a lunch hour.

Of course, when you're all done playing, swimming, eating, and camping, you can always check out Cadillac's finest jewelry store! Not that we're biased or anything...

What's the Moratorium on Lost Mates?

There is an epidemic sweeping our nation- our world.

It is untouched by language barriers, economic status, and political beliefs. The facts should unite us as a people: every day in this world 27,375,618 mates are lost.

That's 1,140,650.75 per hour.

19,011 per minute.

317 per second.

I'm not talking about divorce.

These are the hard, cold facts of sock, shoe, and mitten separation. Staggering, isn't it? Especially staggering is the fact that I completely made that first statistic up, and then bothered to do accurate math from it for the rest of the numbers.

The elusive Sock Fairy, genus Canus Elusia

Here's something that is not an exaggeration: In my short 30 years of life, I have moved 36 times. Thirty-six. Northern Michigan, Arizona, Tennessee, Ohio, New Jersey, back and forth between a few of those... now back once more to Northern Michigan. I have become a pro at throwing everything I own into random boxes, mislabeling the contents, and never opening the box again.

I remember being a teenager, moving yearly between Arizona and Michigan. Each time we would unpack I would find odd mates: knee-high stockings, white crew socks, even the odd shoulder pad or two (this was the early nineties, remember, don't judge me). Each time I would save these little mementos of disorganization, hoping against hope that the mate would show up eventually.
They rarely did.
Eventually, losing faith in the system of all things returning to their point of origin, I would get discouraged and throw that navy blue trouser sock away. On a Wednesday. On Friday the trash would come, and on Saturday, inevitably, I would find the other navy blue trouser sock.

Now, fast forward to today. Three children, ranging in age from three to nine years of age- all girls. One husband, with various hobby interests, including the rare game of paintball. Myself, retail career back on track, with a collection of various stockings: thigh high hose with those silicon grippers, thigh highs without the silicon, knee highs for summer- thin and patterned, knee highs for winter- thick and textured... sport socks... plain socks... funky five foot long purple and white striped socks from my days working the Renaissance Faires... socks just to wear outside when it's extra cold...
Oh, and not just socks! We have shoes: rainboots, snowboots, plain boots... sandals, brown shoes, church shoes, tennis shoes... work shoes, shoes that only go with that one outfit that doesn't fit anymore, shoes with sentimental attachments (don't ask)...
Don't forget hands! Mittens, driving gloves, fuzzy warm gloves, gloves that velcro around a kid's wrist, mittens that button down to reveal fingertips, stretchy gloves with sparkly butterflies...

All between size 1 in baby to 9 in men's. Sure, I don't have a kid that fits into a 1 anymore, but I can't just get rid of the little bunny sock! It's cute! And I can't give it to my sister or my friend in Grand Rapids for her daughter, not just a single sock! So, if I hang onto it for just another year or two, unpack maybe one more box of junk, maybe the mate will turn up! Right?

Oh, did I mention the colors? When we dump out our box of mis-mates (this happens approximately once a month, when desperation sets in) it looks like an Affirmative Action handbook: black, white, tan, brown, navy, yellow, pink, blue, striped, dotted, argyle, short, long, thick, thin, holey, sparkly, splotchy where I spilled the bleach, flowered, stripes mixed with dots, and holiday themed.

We have those little lace-topped girls' socks that would do so well with an Easter dress, if we lived in a place where Easter didn't come with subzero temperatures and freezing rain.

We have socks with dingle balls on the back, so the ball kind of hangs out over the top of a canvas shoe. Note from experience: don't let your kid wear these socks with boots, no matter how much they beg. Especially if you're going to be walking a lot.

We have thick winter socks that my husband wears playing paintball. He has played paintball exactly twice in ten years, yet he has 5 pairs of socks for it. That's not a smart ratio, is it? I should just make him play more often.

We even have socks with jingle bells on them. Seriously. These were, of course, gifts from grandparents that don't have to hear the jingle bells walking past their bedroom door at 6 in the morning. On a weekend. In July.

Eight years ago, I bought a pair of denim high-heeled strappy sandals. They are completely and utterly sexy, and now that I have this cool tattoo on my ankle, go perfectly with it. Well, the left one does. The right one disappeared six years ago. But I tote the wretched thing around with me, from house to house to house, hoping against all hope that the right one will show up and I can wear the perfect ensemble once again. I'm not a packrat, but I cannot seem to let go of these lost mates! The box continues to grow- size 3 purples nesting next to size 6 purples of a similar, but not quite exact, shade. My kids don't care whether their socks match, and will grab any random pairing of length and color. But I cannot let them go out like this, fearing that people will judge me by the footwear on my children. There's a little bit of OCD in that, too- for I cannot wear two differing weights, tightnesses, or lengths on my own feet or I go nuts.

Or maybe I already am nuts. My sock collection is older than my marriage. Somebody help me.



PS: there are actually websites for lost socks. Who would have thought?

Winter in Michigan

The wind came across frozen Lake Mitchell with a banshee shriek. Splinters of ice whistled through the brittle air and drove their way into every surface in view, covered the world in frigid white. Native Michiganders huddled deeper into the hearts of their homes, flickering television sets offering little in the way of warmth, but much in the way of distraction. How these people survive twenty, forty, even sixty years here I cannot fathom. I've been home for three months and can't wait to get away. There is no sunshine, no color, no reprieve from the endless cold and gray. They say the divorce rate spikes high in this time of year, and its no wonder. People stuck indoors together for weeks at a time, skin growing pale and clammy, fighting over paying the heating bill.
I grew up here, you know. As a kid I wore my (boy) cousins' hand-me-down snowpants and trekked through knee deep snow to go sledding. I got chapped cheeks, frozen digits, and pneumonia. I ate snow, melted it on top of the wood stove, and shook it out of my clothes for five months a year. Then my dad moved us to Arizona for the winters, and we were able to leave behind the gray and cold, trading it for sapphire skies and blooming deserts.
When we did move home, several years later, the winter didn't bother me for some reason. Snow driving sucked, always has, always will, but other than that I barely noticed it. Then I got married and started moving elsewhere: Ohio, southern Michigan, Traverse City. Winter is still in existence there, but nothing like it is here in Cadillac.
I have kids of my own now, who are fortunate enough to have girl snowpants. They love the ice, the cold, the frozen windswept lake. Maybe I've gotten too old, maybe too spoiled by mild winters elsewhere, I am not sure. All I know is that it's a wicked winter wonderland. And I still don't have my own snowpants.