Guest Post: Camp Iwanabreak

Today on the blog, I'm featuring a guest post written by McKenzie and Nikki, the founders of a new summer camp for adults called Camp Iwanabreak, where there's one big rule: no technology! It's here in Wisconsin, and it sounds like SO much fun. Visit the Camp Iwanabreak website and have a look for yourself. 

The Need For Real Life Connection in the Modern World

            Did you see the 2013 Academy Award winning movie, Her? In case you missed it, the protagonist of the movie falls in love with the software on his phone (a souped up version of Siri, if you will). I found myself thinking about the movie long after I left the theater, wondering: Is this where we are headed?

            Ten years ago, if you would have asked people what technology would be like in 2015, I’m sure few would have been able to accurately predict our very newfound dependency on our gadgets, apps, and websites.

            Instagram has created a culture where appreciating beauty with our own eyes is no longer enough; we have to photograph our experiences to validate that they are worthy. Snapchat has us recording every moment; we need evidence of our night’s adventures. Twitter has us devising ways to condense the magnitude of our lives into bite sized chunks. Tinder users are swiping left and right, looking for potential dates, but don’t dare approach the people around them. Speaking of relationships: How many times have you heard someone talk about their “Facebook official” relationship status? And I haven’t even mentioned LinkedIn, Pinterest, or Flickr. Sigh.

I’ll make a bold claim, one that I think we all must own up to: We are just so busy narrating our lives on social media that we’re forgetting to live them. We spend more time looking down than we do looking up. Over half the population has admitted to preferring digital communication to the real deal. If I were making bets, I would guess this number would continue to rise. Unless…

Unless we decide it’s time to redefine how we live life on this beautiful world. Do we want to spend half of our waking life experiencing reality through a screen? To reduce the wonder, beauty, sadness, and enormity of our human experience on earth to a digital footprint?

Humans are incredible. It’s time we start connecting with them - in real life! I don’t know about you, but I want my kids falling in love with life in the present moment - and not worrying about whether or not that moment is perfectly curated for others to consume.  

I Don't Get Your Deal, November.

I've recently decided that November is my least favorite month. See, I like months that are exactly as you'd picture them in your head. For example, October guarantees gourds on front doorsteps and brightly-colored leaves. July will be hot, sunny, and perfectly summery. November, on the other hand, is a crapshoot. November needs to decide what it is and stick to it.

November in my mind usually goes something like this: newly-fallen leaves tinged with a hint of frost, perfect cool temperatures for running, and an occasional turkey decoration on someone's house.

Instead, here in Madison, it's winter. Not like, "Oh, look at those first little flakes of snow." I'm talking four inches of white stuff on the ground. It's currently 16 degrees outside. I'm the only one who has "harvest" decorations on her front porch. The rest of the neighborhood is already bedazzled in Christmas lights and friendly snowmen. And I always forget how dark it is this time of year. Anyone with me on overturning daylight savings time?

Even though I am frustrated with November's identity crisis, I made the most of things this past weekend when I visited Lake Geneva, Wis., a hop, skip, and a jump from where I grew up. I think the pictures I took illustrate the current state of affairs—a post-tourist landscape stuck between fall and winter. My advice to November? Do some soul-searching and figure out who you are.

OK, I'm done with my rant now. Here are some pretty pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Put a Bird On It

Yesterday, I gathered up my laptop and camera and headed to Wausau, Wis. for a morning visit to the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum, a hidden gem in the North Woods. I love an art museum, but I particularly love this one because all of the art features birds: flying, nesting, migrating. Their pieces feature the likes of Charley Harper and other greats of the wildlife art world.

As I scooted around groups of schoolchildren who were legitimately interested in the artwork, I couldn't help but notice one common theme that came across in the pieces: vulnerability. Maybe it's because birds are generally viewed as small and delicate creatures, but I noticed the fragility even more as I looked through the photos I took.

If you find your direction pointing north, I would highly recommend a visit to this lovely art museum.

 

 

 

 

 

Well, That Happened...

So, I haven't blogged in two months. For many good reasons. Life happens. I know you all can relate.

To make up for my AWOL status, I am posting several photos that I snapped a couple weeks ago when I was up North with my husband for a few days.

By the way, when I say "up North," that doesn't just mean Green Bay in Wisconsin speak. I stayed in a cabin that was less than an hour from Canada. I've decided that I'd like to have a personal cabin all to myself that overlooks a lake and I'll write and write and write to my heart's content.

Until then, I'll just look at these photos again and again. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Day in the Windy City

The day before the Fourth of July (otherwise known as that lesser-known holiday, the "Third of July"), BJ and I braved the deluge of fellow tourists and voyaged down to Chi-town. Admittedly, "All That Jazz" was in my head for most of the day. But, our activities for the day weren't particularly jazzy. In fact, they were downright nerdy.

No bones about it, we were in for a fun day.

I decided to forgo my usual Michigan Avenue/Outlet Mall itinerary in the interest of not boring my hubby to tears. So, we decided upon mutually-agreeable activities of going to Shedd Aquarium and the Field Museum. I was hoping to steal a few minutes to run in and out of Topshop, but honestly, we were just having way too much fun at the museums.

After a too-early-for-most-humans ride on the train, we arrived (sleepily) to Shedd Aquarium. And then I geeked out. A lot. BJ did, too, but I'm much more obvious about my excitement than he is.

"Look at that seashell lamp! I need that seashell lamp!"

"Look at that fish! I'm going to name him George!"

I also put my hand directly into a touch tank and grazed my hands along a few sturgeon, which felt surprisingly reptilian and not slimy as I had imagined (BJ refused to join in the fish touching). And the best part was watching sea otters swim back and forth, smile at me (or at least that's what I believed to be true), and swim back and forth again. I would have included a picture, but those otters were just too fast and squirrely to be photographed (or should the word be otter-y?).

Our next destination was the Field Museum. I hadn't been there since I was little, and yeah, I forgot about all of the taxidermy. Apparently at least 57% of the Field Museum is just exhibits of dead animals. And this was upsetting to me. Let's move on.

I enjoyed all of the old-school exhibits in their Wes Anderson-like glory.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C

I felt tiny several times. More than usual.

Craned my neck to see these guys

Yup, that's me standing in a dinosaur footprint. My Toms have never looked so dwarf-like.

I wanted to take home the pretty Native American textiles, but I'm guessing the museum would frown upon that.

I also wanted to see if this would fit in my purse. Darn protective plate glass. Maybe BJ will surprise me by purchasing it from the museum and giving it to me for my birthday. Yes, this seems very possible.

And then I saw the greatest thing of all, which easily could have been included in one of the museum exhibits. Who remembers these bad boys? Perhaps you saw them at zoos or aquariums when you were a kid. The smell of burning plastic should be off-putting, but I think this machine reeks of glorious nostalgia.

And then my inner six-year-old, who at one time dreamed of being a paleontologist, got giddy over the dinosaur exhibits.

I think this dinosaur is sassy. She's showing off her legs.

Overall, an awesome day trip with the hubs. I found out that being geeky can be pretty exhausting. BJ then proceeded to come home and watch Star Trek. I guess he has a higher tolerance.

P.S. After the Field Museum, we managed to muster a bit more strength to wander over to the Adler Planetarium, where I got a kick-ass shirt. It's pictured here with my plastic dino from the Mold-a-Rama machine.

OK, So Maybe I'm Delusional

Well, I'm back. To reality. In my house. In Wisconsin. Awesome.

Making my (near)-yearly trip to Sanibel is both a blessing and a curse. Unlike normal people who go on a beach vacation and come back with shells, souvenirs, and sunburns, I bring home feelings of resentment...because I don't live in Sanibel.

Come on...who wouldn't want to live here?

You see, it all started when I was six. My parents bought me a book called "Florida's Fabulous Seashells," and I proceeded to become obsessed with it. Hey, Mom and Dad, remember those times when I was sleeping? Yeah, pretty sure I was reading my seashell book with the aid of my trusty flashlight.

This book contains vast information about shells, along with my broken dreams.

 And in that book, there was a sidebar about a magical island called "Sanibel." Where people-sized piles of shells covered every square inch of the beaches. Some of the rarest shells in the world could be found on its shores. And I needed to go there. Immediately.

I could spend hours sifting through just this pile of shells.

So, shortly thereafter, my parents and I traveled to the mythical land of Sanibel for a vacation. Mainly because I wouldn't shut up about it.

And ever since then, Sanibel has been it for me. I don't want to be a tourist there. I want to join the 6,000 Sanibel residents who call it home.

So, why am I not currently perusing the beach for marine treasures, you might ask? Because I'm married to a guy who happens to really love Wisconsin. And hates hot weather. We're splitting the difference with a (hopefully early) retirement there. Because shelling with a cane I'm sure is doable, but may prove problematic.

Anyway, yeah, I had a great vacation. I spotted a couple houses that I wanted to live in forever and forever, but otherwise, good times all around. 

A selection of trip highlights:

1. A visit to the Bailey-Matthews Shell Museum where I geeked out. Like, a lot. The marine biologist walked away from me mid-question. I made BJ watch all of the educational videos.

2. Crab Races. Because that's what you do for fun at night on Sanibel (it's an amazing place, but doesn't offer much in the way of nightlife). It's pretty intense (see rules below). Our crabs, Butter and Vegas, didn't even make the semifinals.

 

 

3. I saw a group of 15 manatees gracefully swimming in the water and interact with humans as if they were in a Disney movie. Yeah, not really. They were *ahem* enjoying each other's company. And I geeked out. Again. 

 

4. My hubby surprised me with a seashell excursion to one of the uninhabited islands off of Sanibel. Does he know me, or does he know me? Gorgeous views of the water, quality shelling, lunch on a barrier island, and several dolphin sightings. Pretty much, a perfect day for Shelby. 

5. Speaking of my hubby, yeah, he was there, too. And we had an awesome time. I mean, he could've turned to me mid-vacation and said, "My darling, let's run away and live here together for all eternity," but hey, a girl will take what she can get, right?