Monday, August 15, 2011

My Own Particular Harbor


So I disappeared for a while, which I suppose makes me a bad blogger. But I think about three people read my blog regularly, so that's okay.

In the last month we did something kind of crazy, kind of extraordinary, and it didn't even take extra rum to convince me to do it.

We bought a lake house.

By "we" I mean the spouse and his folks. My kids, too, I suppose, since we're spending their inheritance (HAHAHAHAHA!). We're now vacation home owners. Well, vacation garage owners. See, the place is on two lots; the house sits on one lot, the extra large garage on the other. When we went to assign deeds and all of those other important legal things we ended up with the garage. It's a very nice garage.
That's right. Be jealous of my garage.


Luckily enough, my in-laws kind of like us, so they're letting us in the house, too.
We're potty trained, so it's okay to let us in.


And so here it is: I'm officially a Fresh Water Pirate. It doesn't take away my desire or my need for that salty sea air, the sand between my toes and my buttcheeks. But the truth is, for me water is water, be it salt, fresh, or chlorinated. Being on, around, or in it is soothing. Now I have my own little harbor to call home.

Of course, the boys- the big one included- are like Davy Crockett or Bear Grylls on crack. The first thing they had to do, of course, was buy a gun.

What, you weren't expecting that? Neither was I. Nor were the snapping turtles, judging by the "Oh shit!" looks on their leathery little faces.
Dive, Leonardo! Dive! (insert other TMNT references)
It's been explained to me that shooting the ginormous snapping turtles that inhabit our fishing pond is necessary. They eat the fish and screw up the pond's balance. Somehow I don't think Master Splinter would care for that explaination, or my kid's rather unnerving degree of aim. Remind me to take away his clown suit.

I have to say, the whole thing is pretty cool. You wake up in the morning to the birds singing, grab yourself a cup of coffee, and step out onto the deck to watch the world wake up. The fish are biting, the dragonflies are humming, and the world is fresh and new. It's a pretty spectacular feeling. Of course, when you're a part of this crew, by late afternoon you've started making rum punches and Margaronas and the scene is a little more like Summer Camp for Idiots.

"It's taking on water. Go ahead and jump in and let's see how long we can row before we go under!"

It's how we roll, though. And in the end, it's all about family, spending quality time teaching your kid to set a hook without your finger becoming the bait, watching the world wake up around the water, just enjoying the good, easy life.

And watching out for the turtles. Swear to God.


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