Wish you were here: As sun sets on another summer, there's no place I'd rather 'staycation'

All right locals, fess up. It's mid August, and you're getting sick of traffic. The stop signs at the junction for 9 and 71 mirror the highest level of "Frogger," a trip inside Wal-Mart means you'll inevitably bash your wobbly cart into the ankles of unknown vacationers, and your favorite restaurants have a wait most nights.

But there's no place you'd rather be. Merriam-Webster has given a moniker to this frame of mind, adding "staycation" to their ever-expanding lexicon, along with "vuvuzela" and "defriend."

This means the activities you've been taking part in all summer-- cramming your car into a packed Arnolds Park lot to peruse local wares at Art in the Park, laying on a faded University of Okoboji blanket to take in concerts, oohing and aahing at a fireworks display in a bobbing bevy of boats-- are simply check-off's in your "staycation" to-do list.

But, if you're anything like me, you didn't need a dictionary to tell you that, traffic and restaurant wait lists aside, there's no place like home, if your home is right here at the Lakes.

This is the first summer I've spent capturing the expansive arsenal of Lakes leisure for the newspaper and I've marched my Canon Powershot through an impressive array of activity, capturing snap shots of comings and goings for the young and old, the rebellious and religious, because, some way, some how, this place has something for every one.

It's why people from across the Midwest, and, if I'm going to go out on a limb here, I dare say the nation, pack up each summer for their yearly trek to our local zip codes. Maybe they wanted inspiration from the Bible Conference, or perhaps desired to oogle gleaming hubcaps at the many car shows. Maybe they wanted to spend their nights taking in great music on an array of local stages or sharing stories from the road with fellow motorcyclists during last weekend's Victory rally. Or maybe they just wanted relaxation, family time, a place to get away from at a place we chose to stay at.

There's no way around it, these traffic jam inducing tourists are our bread and butter, they drive our local economy, and, soon enough, as the leaves dry up, the weather turns crisp and football seasons begin, they will caravan back to their own homelands, be it Sioux City or South Carolina, their time at Okoboji another summer memory.

What's so impressive about my first summer as a "local" is the participation of my cohorts. Locals work night and day, they work at, start and run successful businesses, but at the same time dedicate themselves to all the things that make this place great. They donate to upkeep shelters, start new events like ChalkStock, and volunteer on any number of boards that bring new activity and old traditions to life summer in and summer out.

This is why I think we're now in the season of "staycation," where we get to really get to consider ourselves lucky. Why? Because we get to soak up the last bits of Indian summer in any way we chose. Maybe we'll take in a drive inn movie in Superior, albeit wrapped a bit tighter in that Okoboji blanket, or steal away for a last sacred trip to Taco House or Yesterdays, take an awe-inspiring boat cruise around West Lake backlit by the autumn shrubbery and the ever-present knowledge that for us, all year, this is home.

And soon enough, we'll hunker down for winter, plotting our summer plans like highly-skilled chess moves. We await the summer roster of PLAC and OST lineups like giddy children shaking Christmas presents, and, come spring, we'll be ready. Heck, we can smell hot sauce from Taco House even if we're just stocking up on bait at Oh Shucks!. This, my friends is home. And what a great staycation it is.