Rooted

Sometimes being back in Cedar Grove, Wisconsin, surrounded by family, is all I need to remember who I am again. (Cue sentimental song about growing up) My relatives own acres of swampland with the Onion River running through it and we just spent the afternoon there for a Memorial Day picnic. Yes, the Onion River is its real name. Yes, I also catch myself saying "crick" when the rest of society calls it a "creek." The midwest has plenty of things to poke fun about, and by my association with it, that includes me too. My area has people with a strong Wisconsin accent, lots of hunting and fishing types, and you may or may not get stuck behind a large piece of farming equipment on your daily drive. We aren't the most fashionable or fast-paced area, but that's okay too.

I remember when I read The Help, Kathryn Stockett, the author, wrote that she felt defensive of Jackson, Missisippi. She felt that she could criticize and comment on Jackson because it was her hometown, but when others did so she grew pretty protective.  I have plenty to say about how much I hate my own accent sometimes and the fact that the nearest mall is 40 minutes away, but I guess according to this Kathryn Stockett lady I'm allowed. Either way, accents and all, I love where I'm from, both the place and the family.

Sunset over my backyard 

Xander and Sawyer (nephew and niece) playing in the sprinkler

Soyjoy. 

Xan man. 

Family gatherings DOWN BY THE RIVER! (Yes, old school Chris Farley reference)

Love these times.