When some friends with a child the same age as ours suggested we spend a long weekend together in a yurt in the South San Juan Mountains, we were game.

The final catalyst for the big, unwanted epiphany was nothing less than that innocence destroyer known as “Little House on the Prairie.”

It’s summertime and we head out of our high desert homeland toward a variation on a beach-front time-share hotel somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean. This time it’s the Florida panhandle, the “Redneck Riviera,” near the nexus of Alabama, Georgia and the Sunshine State.