Tonight, I finished the final episode of the fourth season of Bones. (Netflix Instant is my new best friend.) I have learned oh so many things from the show about human anatomy, psychology, murder techniques, and dreamy FBI agents named Booth. I have also learned that I really want to be a pretty genius who works with other pretty geniuses to solve crimes. If this sounds intriguing to you, add the show to your Netflix queue and then call me with your lab coat size. But first, read my handy tips for surviving the show:

1. Don't be fooled by the first season. The writing improves dramatically by the second season. Stick with it. The first season of The Office was pretty cringeworthy, too.
2. Do not be embarrassed when you totally bond with the characters and then weep at every character-building moment throughout the seasons. "OH MY GOSH, THEY HUGGED! AWWW SOB SOB SOB!" is a completely normal response.
3. You might think, "Oh, hey, I've seen Dexter. I no longer flinch during episodes of 24. I can definitely watch a show about skeletons while eating dinner." For the most part, you are correct, but all episodes are not created equal.
4. The voodoo episode made me afraid of the dark for one night. Watch that one in the daylight or with a friend or with a teddy bear or with a sock monkey.
5. MOST IMPORTANT TIP: Never ever consume Raisin Bran Crunch while watching any part of an episode that deals with brains. Raisins kind of look like tiny brains, and when soaked in milk, they kind of squish like brains. Super worst idea of all time, okay? Just trust me here.

On a related note, I will most definitely be marketing Raisin BRAIN Crunch to the zombie crowd when the time comes.

When I was a wee child, our family vacations centered around historical sites in the Midwest. Log cabins, rock formations, museums, and for several years, any place that had a connection to Laura Ingalls Wilder. (Someone in the family had a slight obsession.)

Sometimes I envied the kids whose parents took them on more exotic vacations, the kind with sun and sand and beautiful views, but mostly I really loved our quirky getaways. Nothing bonds a family together like getting stranded in South Dakota before the days of cell phones, only to be rescued by four nuns with a car phone in a town that proudly hosts the world's largest Jolly Green Giant statue.

The tales have only gotten stranger as the years go by. Two years ago, I ran out of patience trying to document all the strange things we saw and encountered in Milwaukee. I never even finished putting the pictures on Flickr. There were just too many adventures there.

This year's trip to Michigan was a littler tamer, but there are still too many stories to be told. When the first day starts out with a trip to a wooden shoe factory / painted porcelain factory / tulip farm / buffalo farm, you know you're in for a good time. And when that one location can only be accessed by a long series of u-turns (because Michigan has some weird phobia about left turn lanes at major intersections), you are too dizzy to remember any of the bad times.

Although Michigan is not on my list of States to Hate, it is under arrest for crimes against pizza. "Biscuit-like crust" should never be the best way to describe your award-winning Chicago-style pizza, especially when the restaurant serving said fare is within spitting distance of authentic Chicago pizza. (Heck yes, I train my pizza to spit.) However, we did survive the experience and live on to find much better food, like the steak from Crazy Horse and the gourmet chocolate from Kilwin's and the tasty subs from some little place in downtown Holland.

When we weren't busy gorging on food or buying more snacks from the grocery store, we found time to do what we do best—seek out the tallest, the oldest, the ugliest, the prettiest, the dirtiest, and the most bizarre. Our adventures took us to a functioning windmill, on a dune buggy ride, up and down one of the top beaches in America, through a mosquito-infested hiking trail overlooking the lake, past the world's largest weather vane, inside a rather old lighthouse, and aboard the Friends Good Will (a replica of a merchant vessel from the 1800s that was stolen by the British for use in combat in the War of 1812).

I hope I never forget how funny Mark was as he took us past the city on the lake that was buried under the dunes, but I won't mind forgetting how stuffy and crowded and falling apart it was on the fifth story of the windmill. My ankle will never forgive me for hiking in platform flip-flops, and my dad will never forgive Lake Michigan for his non-stop seasickness during our two-hour sailing trip. Adam will forever be held responsible for our bad experience with Younkers, and I think we all decided to blame my mother for the lame museum in the lighthouse.

What really matters, though, is that we endured all the good times and the bad times as a family. The uniqueness of Michigan and its people was the perfect distraction from all the stresses of life, and for that, we are all grateful.

Thanks for being weird, Michigan.

A lot has happened in the month of June. I'll start by sharing the news that I haven't wanted to share.

I broke up with Sean on the 10th, two days after our eleven-month anniversary. That marked the end of my first real, romantic relationship, and I'm still a little dizzy from the river of emotions that kind of event unleashes. The split was as amicable as such a thing can be, and both of us fully intend to maintain our friendship. (If you're rolling your eyes right now at our naiveté, well, fine. But let me be the first to admit that I am super duper stubborn and super duper bad at letting go of friends.) For now, though, I think each of us is overwhelmed with questions like "what next?" and "what now?"

That, ladies and gentlemen, is where a planned family vacation comes in very handy.

This past Friday, I set off for work in wet clothes, leaving behind heaps of other wet clothes and an empty suitcase. (I am a notorious procrastinator when it comes to packing for travel. And when it comes to laundering clothes.) The discomfort of my damp attire was sufficient motivation for me to wrap up the week's projects quickly and to get out of the office. I escaped by 10:30 a.m., and I was fully packed and ready to go two hours later.

I loudly announced my readiness several times in a vain attempt to advertise the merits of putting things off until the last minute. No one listened. Callie, my cat, eyed me with suspicion.

We left thirty minutes late, WHICH WAS OBVIOUSLY NOT MY FAULT AT ALL, and after dropping the dog at the kennel, we piled back in the family van and pointed our thoughts toward Holland, Michigan.

The rest of the story will have to wait, though, because the weather here in Chicago is obscenely nice, and I have a book (and several episodes of Bones) to finish. SORRY.