Oh. Hi. Oh.

My Midwestern Summer tour continued in late-July with my first ever visit to the somewhat great state of Ohio, where dad, Papa, Gigi and I crashed The Ribble Family Reunion in Vermillion. As a little girl, Gigi visited her grandparents often in Vermillion and says not much has changed, although her Grandfather's grocery store is now Rick's Cafe.

The Ribble's are an interesting and talented lot. Midwestern born and bread, but now strewn about the country, their current leader is Bill, is my dad's uncle because he is married to Gigi's sister Claire. The family meets on a fairly consistent basis and extend an invite to the Rucins, when it's in our extended back yard.

But enough of the back-story. The key points are: Lake Erie, what my dad called an "old school" playground, an ice cream shop, and Eli- the only other little boy. The perfect formula for a few days of fun.

Pitchfork 2009

Dad took me to my fourth Pitchfork Music Fest this year and it was the best yet thanks to The Flaming Lips and their balloons. On the other hand, MF Doom, was as bad as the Lips were good, so I decided to provide my own entertainment during his set by teaming up with my friend Alvaro for a festival rendition of Twinkle. Enjoy.

Is It Michigan? Is It Indiana? It's Michiana!

Our annual summer trip to Michigan, which usually lands in South Haven, moved a bit south to Michiana this year and I am still not quite sure if the little village is in Michigan, Indiana, or both. I do know it's close to Michigan City- which is actually in Indiana, had an amazing fireworks display and poor jailers, who allowed four men to escape while we were nearby. One of the convicts was caught just a little bit down the road at Chicago Mayor Daley's beach home in Grand Beach, Michigan. This lead to my daddy's trunk being searched on the way to the dunes and we enjoyed the rest of the few days there awash in beautiful weather and the sounds of police helicopters and boats.

The King Of Pop Lived Here

On the way to Michiana this July, Uncle Dave insisted we stop in Gary, Indiana to check out Michael Jackson's childhood home and am I glad we did cause it was pretty nuts. Michael died suddenly a few weeks prior to our visit and people immediately started flocking to his Gary home, where in tribute they started leaving insane amounts of miscellaneous crap, trampling the poor grass in the process. Check out the photos for the proof. The scene surrounding the tiny house, which miraculously held 10 people, was bananas. Police, t-shirt vendors, creepy super fans and little kids dragged by their gawking parents. Thanks dad!