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The F-U State

I love Michigan, if for no other reason than it has the most interesting shape of any state: that of an upturned mitten. Every time I see it on a map I imagine that the wintery glove hides an extended middle finger. Florida may be the Sunshine State, but Michigan has more swagger, more attitude. Call it the F-U state.

The Upper Peninsula, or ‘U-P’ in the local vernacular, ruins the effect to some degree. It’s for that reason I don’t really consider it part of Michigan. Separated from the rest of the state by Lake Michigan on one side and Huron on the other, a skinny bridge provides the only physical link between the mitten and the U-P. Better, in my mind, to consider it part of Wisconsin.

But Michiganders are attached to the U-P, if only emotionally. They say it offers some pretty spectacular natural scenery. Wanting to judge for ourselves, we drive up the middle finger and directly into Wisconsin, um, I mean Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, for what we expect to be some great hiking and kayaking.

Reality TV

Shannon and I both despise rubberneckers. We hate the people who slow traffic to a crawl hoping to catch a glimpse of a fender bender or, fingers crossed, the jackpot of bodies strewn along the roadway. We similarly detest the beady little eyes that for some reason often drill into us when we arrive someplace new.

Maybe it reflects twenty years of city living, but we just don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone else is doing. We don’t look. We don’t stare, because we don’t care. So it is with great shame that I confess how we were drawn in to watching reality TV of sorts. Read More…