Cottage life at it's best

I think I'm done with the penis talk for now. I can't make any promises, but for now, no penis talk from me.

Today I was talking about cottages with my friend at work. It immediately brought some memories of cottage life to my mind. One story in particular makes me laugh everytime, and for once, it doesn't have me doing something asinine.

I was heading up to my cousin's cottage for the weekend with Hella and her (now) ex husband. She was about 4 months pregnant at the time and unsure of the whole cottage thing (she is now a seasoned cottager with one of her own, but back then a bit of a city slicker! hehe sorry hella!). Mr. Sass was meeting us the next day so it was up to me to get the three of us there safely. By the time we finished the 3.5 hour drive north it was dark. The cottage is set deep in the trees right on the lake with no near neighbours. At that time, there was no road right up to the cottage, so you had to park somewhere and hike in with your crap.

We arrive and grab a few bags. The path is not a well beaten path, and I don't know if they knew it, but I was kind of guessing where the opening of the path was that would lead us to the cottage, and then guessing on which way it was. It was damn dark and I was tired. I found it and we headed in to the forest. About 10 feet in, I look down and a skunk runs past Hella's feet. I didn't want to mention it to her, should she freak and get us sprayed, or give birth right there on the path! That was only the beginning. Soon we hear growling noises and rustling.

Hella: Are their bears around here?
Moi: I don't know. Probably. We are north you know. I've seen them at the dump but not here....*uncertainty*

More noise. The 'man' of the group grew up in the northern parts of Ontario and is knowledgeable about bears and what to do, so we look to him. He tells us to go back to the car and get in. We ran like idiots and flew into the car. He adds more panic to us ladies by saying "I wonder if it's a mother and her cub and we are between them?" Dumb ass. Oh-brilliant-one decides to rev the motor and squeal the tires hoping to scare whatever it was off. We give it a few minutes and brave the path again. This time, we make it to the cottage singing loudly and making lots of noise. I have never seen Hella that white and bug-eyed.

However, the drama is only beginning. We have to go back to the car to get the rest of the stuff. We left the beer and food there. Hella stays back and the 2 of us set out. Needless to say we hear the noise again and find ourselves once again racing to the car with him hauling me behind him at warp speed.

More revving, more tire squealing.

This time, when we get out, we decide no more trips. We load ourselves up like drug mules. He takes the cases of beer and a couple of bags. This is the kicker. He heads up the path saying he will make noise and make sure the coast is clear for me. He leaves me to lock the car and follow. I can only see the white of his shirt disappearing ahead of me. It's then that I realize what the fucker has done:

He has left me with all the raw meat and taken off to the cottage.

Thank you ever so much. Where was that protective nature of yours?
Meanwhile Hella is at the cottage panicking because we have been gone so long and she is alone!
I can't really remember much else from that weekend oddly enough.

Cottage life kicks some serious butt tho. There is nothing like sitting around the lake with friends. Can't wait to get back into it this year.

Hella: you up for a little more "Dock Dancing" this year? The old men loved it last year!