The Sausage Pad Lays Siege to St. Joseph, Pt. IV

(contd.)

The morning of Day Four.  The thrilling conclusion to our PG-13 affair.

Kris fries up even more bacon.  As if we weren't all fat enough already.

Not sure exactly how it happened, but I got suckered into playing board games with the kids every morning.  Here we're playing through one of our girls' favorite games, 5 Minute Dungeon.

The younger kids were pretty much useless, but Damon's boys got the hang of it pretty fast, and my girls are already pros.

Today was supposed to be, at least with regards to the weather, the nicest day of the weekend - low 80s and super sunny - so we decided to hit up St. Joseph's premiere beach - Silver Beach - and spend the entire day there.  Smitty was still asleep, so Rita assured us she would drive them up later when he got around (you know, 'cause Smitty likes sleeping in.)

We arrived in the late morning, and realized - in horror - that, like, everyone else in Southwest Michigan had the exact same idea as us.

The beach was packed.  We found a vacant spot that was about 10ft from our closest neighbors, and began establishing Sausage Pad headquarters.

Not a face mask to be seen for miles.

Zack Smith, a soulless Ginger himself, enthusiastically approves of Smitty's recent purchase.

Watching the kids play in the lake.

(Kris is dancing to rap music.  Like only a middle-aged white woman can.)

After a few hours of hanging out on the beach, me and the guys got bored, so we decided to head back up to the shopping district to hit up some more shops.

Just in case you were curious.

I didn't take a lot of pictures during our going in and out of shops, but while Zack and Damon bought sweatshirts and t-shirts for their wives and kids, I ducked back into that antique store from the day before and picked up four or five more records.  I made out like a bandit on this trip, I was pretty pumped.

We got back to the beach just as a huge freighter began to slowly pull into the canal that cuts through the town.  Pretty cool to see - like watching a city block float through the water.

On the way back from the beach, later on in the afternoon, we sat in standstill traffic waiting for the bridge to lower for a solid half an hour.  The freighter we had watched from the beach was making its way - ridiculously slow - through the canal.  Like, you could walk faster than it was going.

See ya later, asshole.

When we got back to the campground, we saw that most of the grounds had cleared out.  It was Sunday, after all, and most people had left.

This had all been previously jam-packed with RVs and tent.

 

We're still here, though.  We had a solid four nights and five days reserved.

 

The kids broke out this Headbandz game that they enjoy taking along on camping trips.

(I didn't take any of these vidoes.)

We barely put a dent into these snacks. . .

Our fridge game was on point this weekend.

Kris, prowlin' for snacks.

Zack breaks out some ice cream sundae supplies for the kids, in his usual not-at-all kid-friendly, Zack Smith way.

 

The more sugar the better.  Screw it, we're on vacation.

Smitty swooped in for ice cream as well.  Of course.  He needed the pick-me-up - him and Rita had driven around St. Joseph for hours trying to find a parking spot at the beach, and in the end they, too, got stuck at the bridge waiting for the freighter to pass through the canal.  He was pretty pissed he missed out on the beach trip for the day, but his spirits rose after he got some ice cream - and some beer - in his system.

I could've easily watched this all day - Kris and Rita attempting to close up Smitty's beach tent.

The brothers Smith are equally amused at the spectacle.

 

We were forecast to get a thunderstorm in the late evening, around 10pm, so we did our best to breakdown as much of the camp as humanly possible.  We struck all but one of our shaded pavilions, and loaded up as much of the camping gear as possible in our vehicles.  Not wanting a repeat of our doomed vacation in Silverlake's Jellystone Campground, I put all my expensive items - my ukulele, camera and lenses, laptop, etc. - in Kris' van, for safe keeping.  Fool me once, Rain God.

I started a bonfire in the late afternoon to start ridding ourselves of the mountains of cardboard and paper waste we had lying around the campsite.  It raged like a funeral pyre for hours.

The usual from the Cannonball.

Dance party around the campfire.

Hours later, still raging.

The rains did, in fact, roll in late in the night, and came down super hard for about an hour.  During the duration of the storm, we regularly checked our tents, and - miraculously - nothing got wet.  No flooding, no nothing.  After awhile, the rain let up and we continued hanging out and playing cards late into the night.  At one point, some grizzled old park associate told us to quiet down - despite us being pretty quiet, and nowhere near as loud as a group of old drunks about six sites over that we could all hear clear as day.  Oh well, I guess after twenty some years, the Sausage Pad still has that Troublemaker look about them. . .

 - Fin - 

- Brian

The Sausage Pad Lays Siege to St. Joseph, Pt. III

(contd.)

Morning of Day Three.  A healthy breakfast of sugary muffins, fruit, and orange juice.

Oh, and bacon.  Everyone insisted on bacon.

I can't eat this stuff anymore.  I look at this the wrong way and I suddenly gain five pounds.  I'm not happy about it at all.

Damon Loftis.  The Silver Fox.

Slowly waking up around the fire pit.

Now for some random shots around the campsite. . .

The Loftis tent.

Ours.

The Smith tent.

Smitty and Rita's.

One of the kids scrawled this across a picnic table bench in chalk.  Seemed fitting.

Abby had been asking me for the last day or so to spin her around on this throwback classic, which the KOA still had in operation at their playground.  You practically never see these things in operation anymore - you know, 'cause they're straight-up death traps - so I highly encouraged her to make the most out of it.  Zack's daughter, Brailey, came along as well.

I may have gone over the top a little bit with spinning her around and around, nonstop.  She complained I was going way too fast, but what she failed to realize was that was the only way you ride one of these things.  Abby didn't grow up in the '80s and it really shows.

Aaaaaaand she was nauseous for the next hour or so.  Grade A parenting, folks.

Most of the group decided that we'd spend some time shopping around St. Joseph today, with Zack and Damon's families opting instead to spend the day at the beach.  Before launching into full store-browsing mode, however, we decided to hit up Clementine's - a local staple - for lunch. 

Zack helps Damon put on his Vera Wang face mask.  Seriously.

 

Apparently this joint is famous for their onion rings.  We made it a point to eat our weight in fried awesomeness today.

We all hate face masks.

Waiting for food.

When we finally did get food, it was pretty damn good.  We all gorged ourselves, though, so it took a few hours of walking around downtown going in and out of shops for the food coma to subside.

After lunch, we found a decent parking spot downtown, a short walk from the shopping district.  Zack and Damon opted to head back to their respective families, with Smitty and Rita joining us for an afternoon shopping venture (both our kids were clamoring for it.)

This town reminds me a lot of Traverse City - very similar shopping area.

Um. . . . art?   And is the 'Keep Off' sign really necessary?  These chairs are, like, fifteen feet off the frickin' ground - if anyone can seriously climb up that brick wall like Spiderman, I feel they've earned the right to sit in those chairs.

Kris read 'wine' and immediately sprang into action.  It was only after I started weeding through all the pictures I took on this trip that I realized this winery is named after my middle school.

Smitty was still on a quest to find some kind of an umbrella or tent to shield his ginger ass from the intense sun whilst enjoying the local beaches, so we stopped into this general store-ish souvenir store first.  And no, Abby did not end up buying this hat. . . despite her valiant attempts.

Rita and Smitty, perusing wares.

 

After buying Smitty a beach tent, we soldiered on.

Shit like this practically demands you take a picture with it.

So this was a huge antique store, and, lie most antique stores, was pretty over-priced.  They had a pretty good selection of vinyl, however, and it was reasonably priced (between $6 and $10 for most LPs.)  By using the Discogs app on my phone, I was able to ascertain that they weren't priced based on their worth - the owner just guesstimated their value.  I ended up picking up five or six albums - by Yes, The Small Faces, Loggins & Messina, etc. - after realizing they were all worth $10 or more over what they were priced.  Not a bad bit of business if I do say so myself.

We tried to get Zack to come back and later and buy this hat, but he never got around to it.  Which is sad.

A pretty cool skate and surf shop.  If they would've had more skate merch and less surf merch, I could've dropped some money in this place.

A home decor store that Kris and Rita spent far too much time in.

Alayna and I waited outside for them.  You can tell we're having a blast.

 

Nyuck nyuck.

Planning our next move.

Kris' resting bitch face.

Pretty typical souvenir shop.  If you've been in one, you've been in them all.

I love classic architecture.

A couple kids, about to murder a poor animal.

A Historical Marker?  Don't mind if I do. . .

The Cannonball inspects a cannon.

The pizzeria must be destroyed. . . 

Is it possible to have too many pictures of cannons?  The answer, dear readers, is no.  No it is not.

Lakeside St. Joseph.

A splash zone of some sort.

(That's Smitty's new beach tent Alayna is holding.)

Abby and Cannonballs.

 

Re-organizing plunder while I take a ridiculous amount of pictures of my kids and a cannon.

We had a lady who was standing nearby take a picture of our group with this thing, not realizing at the time that she was on the phone.  She was on the phone, ordering pizza for her family, and SHE PUT THE PIZZA GUY ON PHONE TO TAKE THIS PICTURE.   Appreciate the hell out of this picture, folks.  That lady is my hero.

Back at camp, time to crack into Brother Washington. . .

Smith and Smitty attempt to fix Smitty's chair after Abby - of course it was Abby - broke the headrest off it.

The Cannonball, lost in her current book.

I think we're pretty set for firewood this weekend.

After dinner, we decided to all head up the road for another sunset session at the beach.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky, so the sunset pics aren't as dramatic as they could be, but - as you're about to see - I did manage to snap a few solid ones (including the mandatory 'boat driving through the sun's light, rippling off the waves' pic.)

The kids got back in the water, not caring if the temperature was falling into the low 70s.

Abby

The Cannonball

 

Smitty wrangles kids on the beach

Setting up shop for our brief hour-long visit.

Dads in the lake.

 

Zack rough-housed with the kids while throwing around a football with Damon, and he definitely felt it in the morning.  We're to that age now.

Ball loose.

Smitty makes a dramatic catch.

Hough girls.  Balancing the exposures of the sunset and the kids, and not having them back-lit, was a royal pain in the ass, let me assure you.

Trying out some settings with Kris and the girls.  A bunch of folks wanted pics of their families standing in front of the sunset, so I had to juggle some settings real quick and hope for the best.

 

The Houghs.

Farwell High School's finest, reliving their not-so-glorious days.

Zack, Renee, and a couple of their kids.

This one's the most accurate, I think.

The Loftis Clan.

Between takes.

Rita and Smitty.

We decided we should get a group picture, and began the long, ardous process of assembling all the kids together in a big group.  Once finished, Smitty flagged down a nearby mom for assistance.

Not bad for being taken on Kris' phone (my camera was too intimidating for her.)

Heading back to the cars.

Not sure what these giant metal things are, but they extended from the bluffs all the way into the lake, going out at least 50 - 100 feet.

Back at camp once again, the kids in bed, and the adults sitting around enjoying a quiet evening campfire.

- Brian