Jacob Muselmann, Copy Chief
Like clockwork, the solstice will find me hightailing it to my friend's farm in Stigler, Oklahoma, for his annual dinner. He'll sacrifice a lamb, stuff it with rosemary needles, and lay it in a big tinfoil pan next to a bowl of tingly mint yogurt. Then we'll frolic around a 20-foot bonfire before finding one of 17 recliners to collapse on back in the living room. In the morning, we'll awake with sizzling pig in our nose, share a spot of black coffee, and walk the grounds, finding relics from the night before.