Every year, we go camping with my dad's side of the family. Year one (shown above) started with just 10 of us. This year, we had 44. We've been all over Wisconsin, and to some unfortunate Illinois locales (I'm looking at you, Jellystone). Even after 25 years of broken bones, almost tornadoes, collapsed tents, multiple cart crashes (golf cart and go-kart), and intense teasing, it's still the one family event that cannot be missed. So much so, we've had someone break up with a boyfriend over his lack of desire to attend.
Here's to another 25 more.
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