Four days cut off from reality (for the most part) in the middle of Lake Superior with my urban tribe was supposed to be break from reality. Madeline Island is quickly becoming my favorite midwest location. It has great forests, beautiful beaches, the opportunity to go sailing on the closest thing we have to the ocean, and a fun little picture postcard downtown. What it doesn't offer is a lot to do when it rains. ...and this weekend it rained. and rained. and rained... instead of coming home refreshed, I'm feeling a bit broken. I'm not built to have as much solitude and quiet time as I do on a daily basis, but I'm apparently not wired for so much togetherness either.
We didn't really have a contingency plan for a rain day. We certainly didn't plan on it raining the whole time we were there. Someone once said there is no such thing as bad weather, only wrong clothing choices. I'd anticipated cold (thank you polar fleece), but not wet. Luckily, on afternoon #1, it was just a light rain. Two of us broke from the group to check out the stores and found $2 rain ponchos at store #2. You know you're a) a tourist and b) intent on shopping when you don a modified clear plastic garbage bag to waltz around town in.
One of my goals, however, was to secure a pile of rocks from the beach, give voice to all of the angst that's rumbling up in me by writing each thing down on one of the rocks, and then throwing them back into the surf. I got a third of the way there. Roommate 2.0 and I braved the driving wind and pellets of frigid rain to trek to the beach (thank you Big Ten for having a wind/rain repellant, hooded jacket with that I could abscond with for the afternoon!) where I filled my pockets with rocks. Tomorrow night, I have a date with my angst, those rocks and a sharpie. After that, I'm throwing them in the Mississippi. Maybe flowing water is a better option for ridding myself of them anyways.