Wisconsin.

I'm not sure when it happened, but the time in my life when I could travel to another country and sleep on the floor in a hostel has ended. I'm not high maintenance by any means but when my basic needs aren't met I'm just the worst. It makes me kind of sad to think about the experiences I missed out on, but maybe in fifteen years I'll have an Eat. Pray. Love realization to make-up for lost time. Until then, I'd like my face wash and my almond milk thank you very much.

On our trip to Wisconsin, Tyler was most excited about spending a weekend with his amazing best friend at his cabin in the northern part of the state. I thought this sounded awesome (I mean, I once hiked 28 miles in the backwoods of Yellowstone. I'm not that pampered.) but the trip started with me crammed into the backseat of a car THAT HAD NO REAR SHOCKS for four hours with three people I didn't know. I was not in a good place emotionally.

But, after an hour I just "bucked up" and got over the incessant bouncing (... aided, in large part, by a stop at a roadside ice cream stand.) From then on, I was all hot dogs and wiggly worms on hooks and slimy fish scales and squeaky cheese curds and hair that smelled like campfire smoke. I guess I've still got a little adventure left in me, after all.