This weekend I journeyed to northern Wisconsin for our youth group’s annual intergenerational fall retreat at Camp Crosswoods. We had a better turn out than last year and just as much fun. Despite being incredibly cold most of the weekend (it was in the 40s during the day), my constant vigilance at wearing four layers of clothing kept me from being huddled in a corner. It also helped that I picked the bed next to the heater.

Highlights included the swinging heights of the high ropes course (minus the acorn throwing), the late-night round of ‘Capture the Pookie’ (even though the running left my knee stiff and me hobbling the next day), the outdoors complete with changing leaves, and an enthusiastic crew of teens, leaders and adults.

Oh, and a speeding ticket on the way home. Nothing like breaking the law to set a good example. I had it coming though, trying to pass a winnebago on the downhill in one of the rare passing lanes with a not-so-patient truck behind me. It’s like shooting fish in a barrell. The sad part is that I’ve gone since 1999 without a ticket. This makes three, which puts me at a distinct disadvantage compared with Abby’s zero.