I’m writing this from the back patio of a beautiful lake cabin on the shores of Bay Lake in Minnesota.  A paddling of ducks is searching the reeds for breakfast.  In the distance, the sun has turned the water a shimmering white.  A duo of kayakers float silently towards the sunbeams, about to disappear into the morning majesty.

Next to me, my eight-year-old is hammering away at a glockenspiel like he’s standing at the top of a burned-out lighthouse in a hurricane, the only hope for a shipful of sailors trying to come home.

For all the reasons people choose #LakeLife, the NOISE is actually the reason we’re here.  My sister and her family – including her two sons, ages six and two – have flown in from North Carolina and my parents have rented this cabin so that together we can spend the next week making as much noise and happiness as possible.

Of course, “noise and happiness” do not equal “ease of writing time.”  I’ve been sitting here for a half-hour and in that time my parents spent ten of it showering me with compliments because, as they noted, I AM the smartest and funniest person on the planet.  (Related, I told my six-year-old nephew that I liked how he was wearing two different sneakers and a bunch of rubber bracelets on his ankle and my sister said, “What do you say to Auntie?” and he said, “Everyone always gives me that compliment,” which was exactly the right response.)  Five of those minutes were Eight telling me I HAD to come look at his “private pooping spot,” which turned out to be, surprisingly, a bathroom.  Now I’m watching Kyle and Twelve, who are standing at the edge of the dock fishing.

So, in the interest of the best kind of distractions, I’m going to hold off on my planned story (pickleball) and instead tell you a brief ditty about a summer pastime that comes into my brain whenever my sister and I are together.

I am three years older than Erica; per Sibling Law, this means that I decided everything we liked and did growing up.  I went through a (43-year) phase where I was obsessed with Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books, meaning my sister was also legally obligated to love them.

We grew up in a big ol’ Victorian with a big ol’ staircase that curved from the front foyer up to the second-story landing.  A long, creaky railing was all that stood in the way of someone falling from the second floor to the first, meaning it was the absolute perfect setup for PROBABLY EVERY little girl’s absolute favorite Little House-inspired playtime: Prairie Fire.

The summer of 1990 was a dry one because we put out a lot of fires that year.  Here’s how we did it:

My sister and I would go into our respective bedrooms off the second-floor foyer.  After a moment or so, Erica would swing open her door and shout,

“Ma, there’s a prairie fire!”

To which I would swing open my door and shout, “Quick, get to the well!”

I would run to the railing and throw a green sand bucket and a length of yarn over the railing and down to the first floor.  Erica would run down the stairs, get a Dixie Cup of water, put it in the bucket, and then run back while I pulled up the bucket.

Then it was Erica’s job to take the Dixie Cup out of the bucket, run to the bathroom, and dump the water into the sink while I took off my apron – our mother had sewn us calico dresses, aprons, and bonnets, naturally – and “put out the fire” by slapping the ground.

When the fire was finally out, we’d wipe our brows, count our blessings, refill the Dixie Cup (Erica), and start the whole thing all over again.

Erica and I are now the mothers of four boys, and I can guarantee that if I told my own sons to play Prairie Fire, there would be a pallets and a fire hose and I would be very, very sorry.  My kids also have zero interest in Little House, and greatly prefer books like I Survived and Private Pooping Spots Across America.  However, in the Little House spirit, Erica and I will spend a few glorious moments this summer vacation sitting on the stoop watching the sun set…with the hooting of the loons, the lapping of the waves, and the pounding of the glockenspiel in the background for a bit of night music.

The photo above is of my sister and me.

The lovely folks at the North Dakota Renaissance Fair have given me two tickets (plus a 25% off coupon code) to give away.  Click here to enter, and check out the Fair! (North Dakota Nice)

This week on North Dakota Today, we talked Warm Blanket Hugs and the Downtown Street Fair.  Check it out! (North Dakota Today)

Congratulations to Fargo’s Daryl Fellbaum, who has earned his degree after 53 years. (Valley News Live)

A recent poll asked the question: Is North Dakota actually nice?  The answer is YES. (KX Net)

Last week we talked about a country picnic, and this week there was a dinner on the prairie. (KX Net)

Grand Forks’ Tricia Anderson and her pet tortoise, Martha, are the talk of town (or at least the park). (Grand Forks Herald)

Thinking about becoming a nurse?  Nursing students in Jamestown achieved a 100% pass rate on a national exam, as compared to the average of 83.19%. (University of Jamestown)

North Dakota ranks fifth in states that are obsessed with the NFL. (KX Net)

Congratulations to Kindred’s Perry Piatz, Fargo’s Rod Hardie, and Griggs County’s Rick Anderson, who were named national Coaches of the Year. (Fargo Forum)

As a reminder, I’ll be appearing on North Dakota Today on Monday mornings. Tune in, and send me the people and stories that make you go, “Oh, for nice” (and if you have already sent me stories – THANK YOU!).

ALSO as a reminder, Kyle now has a North Dakota hockey podcast on Pulltab Sports. It’s called “North Dakota After Dark” and he hosts it with our friends Kelly and Corey. It’s pretty dumb, pretty funny, and I said, “KYLE, you can’t say that” at least 3x when they were recording…so be warned. Episode 4 is now up. Click here to listen.