So, which one of you thought it would be funny to have assisted living and retirement homes start to mail me marketing materials? In the last issue, I discussed my need to make some decisions about Medicare. It is like a tsunami has been let loose. I am not there yet—but I have to tell you, some of these places look pretty darn nice. With meals from a menu each night and happy hours with a two-drink minimum where you can invite friends, I might have found my next home—but not yet. So, whoever is doing this, give me another 10 years before we talk. OK?

I finally crossed off my bucket list something it seems every St. Louisan does in the summer. We went to Michigan. Admittedly, we were right over the Indiana border in New Buffalo, but we did it! We picked up Tess from Chicago, and one and half hours later, we were there to enjoy Pure Michigan.

It was a beautiful little town, but it seemed familiar like I had been there before. Main Street with all of the shops featuring tee shirts, snow globes and other stuff I did not need. But a former merchandiser from Ralph Lauren had three shops that were a little different so those were fun. Then Tess wanted to search for antiques. I would rather watch paint dry, but since I convinced her to join us, I had no choice as we hunted through piles of stuff that someone else did not want—I wanted protective gloves. We did find a few attention grabbers like the video game that Carey played in college, some glassware that was just waiting to be knocked over by my purse and other tchotchkes.

The highlight was some strange ice cream cone that was layered with about five flavors all teetering on top of each other. Both Tess and Carey were happy to indulge. I stuck to a hot fudge sundae. Wearing a white shirt was a mistake.

If any of this sounds familiar and you get the magazine Coastal Living, I stole every single idea out of it, including where to stay. I felt if it made it into print, it must be right. (Hmm, I wonder if everything I write must be right.) Tess dropped us off at the airport just as everyone was headed into Chicago for the DNC. Security was tight, but we were heading to St. Louis so no big deal. Just a mess for Tess!

So, at what age do you stop vacationing with your children? I think Tess had a good time. We managed to find a store with great clothing that all ended up on my charge, but her birthday is in two weeks so I figured I was really helping myself out. Back to the question though. Do you ever stop vacationing with your kids, and when do they start paying their own way? Wait, is this one of those things I should have stopped doing years ago? Is my 27-year-old spoiled? Have I ruined her for life, or do I just wait until I cannot or do not want to pay? We have a spa trip coming up, lots of yoga and chanting … oh and something called a sound bath. I want to go and suspect Tess would beg off if I told her to pay half. So that is the answer. You pay when you want them there. Problem solved! Writing can be so therapeutic!