We’re back from vacation, with nothing to show for it but a pile or two of laundry, a tired, mopey dog, and a really pissed off cat. And some really happy memories.

And pictures.

Caution: Watch for falling reader interest levels over the next 4 miles of post.

Our lake is not a very busy one. Which is good. Many lakes in Michigan are so mobbed on weekends, that there are actually county sheriff traffic cops posted in the waters. And cases of Water Rage. ::Road Rage, with Wettitude.::

The Friday before the 4th, about 8:00 p.m., the boat traffic on our lake picked up considerably. Evidently, after a long drive from the city, folks were wanting to get on the water and kick it up a bit.

There was one boat that was in constant motion, from 8:00 until sunset, pulling kids on either a tube or skis back and forth in front of our cottage. The kids in the boat and those being pulled squealed and shrieked, non-stop.

For some reason, that an adult was so focused on making happiness for a boatload of children who just an hour earlier were cramped in a car/van/trunk with a farting/complaining/carsick uncle/grandpa/dog, asking/wondering/lamenting "Are we there yet?", caught my fancy.

Here's a shot of this very boat, pulling a wee wittle skier, in the sparkle of a glorious sunset.



One of the highlights of the vacation was the presence of my college boy, who gave us three full days of his undivided attention. Well, when he wasn't sleeping or playing video games, that is.

Seriously, my boy has grown into such a young man over this past year. What I'm really lovin' is that he genuinely seems to enjoy just hanging out with us. This is one of about a dozen shots I took of Brother and The Cakers having a talk on the dock. Can't you just taste the Little Sister drama? They were out there for about 15 minutes, and neither one could remember a thing they talked about.

Ummhmm. And so it begins. The Sibship Coalition



With the in-laws in the house, my husband and I were able to steal away for a romantic date night, in nearby Frankfort. After a lovely dinner of shitake-dusted sea scallops, floating in a sea of mango chutney butter, deep fried green beans in a sweet chili sauce and vanilla creme brulee cheesecake ::The brulee part is on the bottom of the cheesecake. To. Die. For. Rise. From. Dead. Die. Again.::, we took a stroll on the pier.

Here's a sailboat sparkling on the Lake Michigan horizon.



Some child-like silhouettes jumping off the pier. ::The waters were calm, but it still made me nervous.::



And yours truly, Gapped to the max (Oops. I cropped the very Gappy shorts. Sorry.) looking to pick up some handsome sailor action on the pier. Note the dollar store sunglasses. Tray Cheek. No? ::You may recall, I had to kick some Back-of-the-Dollar-Store-Ass for these. Never underestimate the ass-kick-ability of the City Slicker. And yes, we are really called that in small-town-Northern-Michigan.::



I was going to show a picture of the sailor I snagged but Bloggerwad is being, well, a wad and I'm too lazy to upload to my photo service. Plus, I'm pretty sure no one has stuck with this boringass post to this point anyway. But hell if I ain't having some fun.

But not near as much fun as this Wet Pile of Love.



Hopefully, my next post will contain evidence of an actual finished garment, to make a total of three for the year. Gasp.

::No. Don't even look over there. At the sidebar. I mean it. Stop. Don't make me get all Dollar-Store on your ass... ::

Labels: Cottage