Well, it is only a week later and I'm already getting up the post on our week at the cottage. Must be some kind of record for me. I guess I'm just that organized.
We arrived in Huntsville on Thursday around supper so headed over to our favourite fish and chip joint, Westside Fish and Chips. Life was grand, we were officially on vacation time and then Emily puked all over the floor - chewed up fish and chips among other unrecognizable things decorated the carpet around our table. She was fine one minute, coughing the next, sticking her fingers in her mouth and then, pow. We had a few theories: choking? carsick? Veggie Booty gone bad (and later recalled)? We never quite figured it out but it was a nasty way to start the week. Emily was fine afterward and, to John's amazement, after I cleaned up the floor, I sat down and ate the rest of my dinner. No way I'm letting a little barf put me off my fish and chips.
On Friday, Emily, Hope and I left John to work on his writing while we went over to the Henkelman cottage. Beth and Graeme were over there and they invited us for the day so I could ride in the newly christened electric boat hand-crafted by Graeme's brother, Jonathan. I also wanted to see frequent-commenter and Graeme's sister, Erika. It was a great day, made greater by the fact that Jannie, Graeme's mom, took Hope for a few hours so Emily and I could tour Lake Rousseau in the boat. The boat was beautiful, the weather sunny with a little breeze. We went through the locks and into Port Carling reliving what many cottagers have done for eons - shop by boat. We pulled up to the butcher shop, the liquor store and the grocery store. I'm having trouble describing how it felt - nostalgic and yet I'd never done it before; historic, but that seems cliche; peaceful and yet we were shopping with many other people. Anyway, if you are ever in a situation where you can do it, please do, it just feels good.
The best part of that afternoon was a memory I'll recall a lot over the years. Emily slept in my arms for about 30 minutes on the boat. It took me back to her baby days when she often needed to be held while she slept. I spent those 30 minutes remembering that and peering into her sleeping face. I think that face is the most beautiful creation I saw last week.
On Sunday Beth and Graeme came to our cottage for the rest of the week and then on Monday, we left the men to their writing again and all the girls went over to my dad's wife's cottage near Gravenhurst. Emily had a newly bought paddle. She eagerly jumped into the canoe with Donna and one of her nieces ready to set that paddle in motion. They returned to the dock about 5 minutes later. Emily declared "I'm fustated!". Seems the paddle doesn't quite reach the water very easily when you are 3 feet tall.
On Wednesday, Beth's close friend and cottage regular, Sara, arrived to spend the rest of the week with us. You know when you get that perfect balance of people together so that every conversation is pretty much great? That is this group of people. We spent every night talking or playing games (and talking). It's pretty memorable when you can spend a night talking about everything from why a person would possibly own a season of Alf on DVD to the pros and cons of using Wikipedia as a source for academic research to why KFC's fries really should have been labelled "steams" and why people actually ate them for so long. Although it has been a common occurrence in my life, I almost peed my pants on that one.
Saturday was the big baby shower. The weather held, there was a lot of bocce ball played, great food and Beth and Graeme did well on the gifts. The best bocce shot of the day was performed by one of Graeme's uncles who managed to sink it down a groundhog hole under our neighbour's cottage. One in a million, I say, one in a million. It was a really fun afternoon. The rest of the baby shower photos are on Flickr.
The not mentioned parts of the week were spent doing some minor renovations on the cottage and disposing of many (I think last count was seven?) mice. Seems it is an outright gang, possibly even an organized ring.