Anyhoodle, we were up in the hills, y'all-- the Black Hills, in the great state of SD. Surprisingly, this was our first whole family vacation; I've taken mini-vacations with the boys, and longer vacations with Greg, and even some trans-atlantic jaunts with my own self, but this was the first four in a car, cooler of bars, nest of brochures, gift-shoppin', fanny-packin', roof-stackin', old fashioned family vacation. It was a blast! The boys did pull the "are we there yet?" card before each (endless) tourist destination, but they got along famously, especially in light of the fact that the cooler took up one of the window seats in back, leaving a small opening for their two excited little butts.
It was a flashback-fest, too, because the Salbergs journeyed to the Hills when I was Kaden's age for one of our best family vacations... and that's probably why I always think of the Hills as being very 1987. Doesn't it seem that way, though? Not in a bad sense, or anything: Flintstone Park hasn't changed since my youth, fanny packs are still omnipresent, and every other apparel shop is itching to deck you out in hair-band regalia for Sturgis. See what I mean?
Some things never change
Okay, so I may have staged that last photo to resemble the 80s version. What of it? We still blazed our own path, even as we stayed in some of the same locales, and amassed a heap of new memories. Including some choice sound bites from the boys, which I would share... if I had my tablet, where they're archived in a word document. Never fear-- I'll get it back Monday, when I will generously share the wit and wisdom of my offspring. In their place, I'll leave you with the most glorious lake in this great nation:
Lake Sylvan, I adore thee!