It’s all over but the crying now, the Labour Day Weekend has officially come to an end here at the cottage. The lake has gone quiet, the ducks are back, along with some fairly thick fog. But what a weekend!! Our neighbors a couple doors up the lane were having a little Labour Day Weekend get-to-gether with some friends, and in order to keep me from calling the police, they were clever enough to extend an invitation to us.
Following our kite flying endeavors on Friday, we had a little campfire gathering with some friends and the party goers.
A racuous crowd, who got a little rowdy when we realized that we didn’t have any marshmellows, an oversight on my part I am afraid….But my always resourceful Wendy plied them with shooters and in no time any thoughts of marshmellows soon were forgotten. Sheila broke out her guitar and in no time we had a bonifide campfire sing-a-long happening right on the shore of the lake.
The next day began with the official opening of my unofficial campground as two of the party revelers visiting the neighbors place for the weekend reserved a parking spot in my “campground” to park their motorhome. Yee Ha! Our first customers, and not a tenter, or a tent trailerer, a friggin’ big motorhome…with sides that miraculously slide out….
I gotta get out more, because that is not something I have ever seen, especially when the slideout opened with the push of a button.
I was looking for handles to crank, but oh no…just push a button and the room gets bigger…..push another button and the satellite dish lines up with the satellite orbiting high overhead, the television comes on, soft music plays in the background and the bar opens and pours a drink with ice. At the same time the coffee maker started brewing coffee while the chair I was sitting in reclined and started to give me an all over body massage. It was then I realized that I might not have been charging them enough for the weekend camping…….
Around 10 in the morning Wendy disappeared. Around 4 in the afternoon I decided it might be a good idea to look for her. I found her with, of all things, chicken wing grease on her face playing “washer toss” with three guys at the party. Said she was going for “the best two out of three” which had me wondering however, before you get all “R” rated, washer toss is a game you play with washers….you toss them….at boxes….and try to get them in the box….the chicken wing grease is yet to be explained…..
Apparently Wendy had been playing washer toss and eating chicken wings all afternoon. I could have been worried about her if I had noticed she was missing sooner. And washer toss??? Oh my God, has she no self respect I wondered, at least she could have run away with a horseshoe player, something a little more…well….dignified.
The afternoon party became a supper party, potluck style around 6 p.m. and by 8 p.m. the deck party became a garage party as the talented folks broke out the guitars and the less talented folks such as yours truly broke out the lawn chairs and became an appreciative audience. The garage was rocking and folks were knocking, as Darrell belted out “Who Will Stop The Rain” just to get our blood running, feet tapping and hands clapping. At least I think that was his opening number…
The other musicians, Carl, Sheila, and Len, well they started picking and grinning too and all proved their vocal virtuosity with song after song, until our hands were sore from clapping!
I briefly considered breaking out my spoons and joining in, but they were all in the dishwasher at the time. Curtis, a crowd favorite took the stage for a couple of songs and had everyone rolling in the aisles with his easy sense of humor and singing style.
Toward the end of the evening our neighbor Bob took the mic and surprised us all with some amazing Merle Haggard, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place by the time he was finished and I tried to get him to sign me up as his manager, I even offered to give him my cowboy boots.
It was one of those nights you hate to see come to an end…..
Sunday had us up and at it early, with a nice breakfast/lunch/brunch/combo affair, and off in two pontoon boats for a trip up the lake to visit Carl, one of the muscians who has a great camp located further up the lake in a fabulous cove.
The kind of place that The Cottage Chronicles is all about, even has a screen room. My kind of cottager !
Darrell and I treated the party folks to an exciting boat race as we both pushed our pontoon boats to the limit on the way home, racing for the finish line.
I have to concede that he won, only because Wendy would not let me throw some of our passengers overboard to lighten the boat. I offered them lifejackets and promised to come back for them after the race, but oh no…I think Bob and Bruce, that’s them in the top of the pic below, were willing to give it a try until Wendy stepped in and told them about the time I threw her overboard trying to race a big inboard engine equipped speedboat.
Of course a guitar-party-labour-day-weekend-cottage-party-on-the-lake is not over on Sunday, oh no…we had a great supper of barbecued hotdogs and hamburgers, whipped up into a delicious, savory delight by Gil, who apparently is not unfamiliar with an apron and the manly art of barbecuing. Apparently in respect of manliness, nobody took his picture wearing an apron even though it looked good on him.
Supper was followed up with some more great downhome music, this time on the deck, which is like garage music only a little more…well…decky…some foot stomping music from Carl, Darrell, Shiela and Irene drifted across the lake. I like to think that somewhere, on the other side of the lake, a couple of whitetail deer were standing by the shore, listening to the music and tapping their toes to the beat.
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