Tomorrow, my family unit embarks upon its annual journey to the wild lands of northeastern California, where we’ll spend seven days in the woods.  Our camp is truly in the middle of nowhere - on the shores of a lake in a remote corner of a rural county that encompasses a grand total of two (2) stop lights in its entirety.

Where it's at!

There, we’ll awaken to the honks of geese floating through the fog.  Frolic lakeside in our skivvies.  Whittle.  Bake our extremities in the sun. Skip stones.  Canoe.  Use crude implements to prepare dinner, and with indescribable pleasure, vanquish a day’s hunger.  Spark twig-and-log teepees.  Roast marshmallows.  Poke at campfire coals.  Stroll under starlight to water’s edge.  Gawk alternately at Milky Way and Perseid streaks.  And finally, bathed in the crisp silence of mountain air, give ourselves back to glorious slumber.

But, most importantly, we shall wash away years of accumulated shame - finally hooking one of the wise and elusive inhabitants of the nearby loch.  For if we do not, Four-Fingered Jack and his Discount Online Fishin’ School will be receiving a most strongly-worded correspondence.  Of that, I can most undoubtedly assure you.

This is gonna be good.