The annual Mack race was held about a month ago, and Swede, his parents, some other people, and I headed out on Lake Michigan to see the start. It was a whole mess of boats, some sleek and intimidating, others with cheery, colorful sails, but no less competitive. And after about an hour or so it was almost a whole mess of McPolish, because guess who gets seasick?
I’d tell you which boat had the best start, but alas, I was below deck, tucked away in the quarter berth. Because when you sleep you don’t notice the lake and your stomach doing the rhumba as much.