Cottage Chronicles, 2020 Edition

 People as me what I do up here at the cottage.  Well here is today’s project:

I am double netting our bed.  Mosquitos are gone, but we did have one bat sighting, so I’m being very careful.  

If anyone remembers last year:

We’ve slept in the guest room for weeks now, so risking it again tonight.  I am literally the only one that can spot a bat in my family.  

Do I think the bats are gone because I don’t see them?  No way.

Recipe for Success or Disaster

A few years ago, I found an old tin recipe box at the antique store full of recipes.  They recipe cards were yellowed with age, oil stained and worn.  There were hand written cards, like "Aunt Cassy's Plum Cake" and torn swatches of paper from magazines with recipes for scones and casseroles.

Some recipes were scribbled on the back of old gas bills.  Some recipes seemed ancient and others taken from the back of onion soup mix boxes.  There was even an old thank you card tucked in there.  Clearly, this box had seen some times.

I just read an article about an old cookbook that was clearly a wedding gift.  It was inscribed neatly in black ink, and it was clearly, the cooking bible of its day.

It's hard to imagine a world where you had access to recipes through one book.  I have shelves and shelves of cookbooks, yet, I would never call myself a cook.  No one wants to eat what I can make, I am better off in the deli section at our local fancy, corner grocery store than I am turned loose in the kitchen.

Wouldn't it be interesting if the Bible was your only reading source?  What if Aunt Better Crocker was your only way to put dinner on the table?  I feel like we are flooded by books, music, art, and more.  You name it, our American culture overflows with it.  There is so much and so much information, how do you even begin to pare it down to a bite sized nuggets of information?

In this land of plenty, it is hard to separate the meaningful from the poppycock.  Think of how interesting it would be if you lived in a time when you could invent without a zillion other people out there inventing the same thing, too.

It just seems like we are a land of lost opportunity, due to our own tidal wave of information that we have created.  Well, and it's not like it could go any other way.  What did John Steinbeck say?   "We now face the danger, which in the past has been the most destructive to the humans:  Success, plenty, comfort and ever increasing leisure.  No dynamic people has ever survived these dangers."

Canadian Chronicles 2014: Creativity and 4 Board Monopoly

4 board Monopoly was the talk of the summer.  The kids had to play it, and the dilemma was we did not have 4 boards.  In the wilds, this is how you settle that problem.

Anyone that has visited us in Canada, will recognize the Boardwalk, Park Places and pitfalls that might greet you or be your undoing in this game.

It is still a work in progress, but come next summer, the game will be on!

Canadian Chronicles 2014: The Princess Tent

After my near rabies experience with the bat colony (well, truth be told it looks like I have about 19 years to develop signs of rabies), we put up a mosquito net.  At least if those pesky critters were going to fly over my bed I was going to know about it!  If they bite me through the netting, I should be able to wrap them in it and take them to the local animal control department like I should have done in the first place. Too bad I was screeming in the bathroom instead of learning my ABC's of bat invasion.

My friend went to the local wilderness store and  brought me the net.  My scoffing husband has been very good about not making too much of a fuss about sleeping in our bed with the netting surrounding us. 

Truth be told, as I type and gaze up at the netting, I feel like I am in one of those princess tents that you buy little girls to hang over their beds.  It's kind of like an adventure, if I didn't already have the nightmare part and vivid memories in my ears and eyes of swooshing shadowy bats.

Calling it a princess tent is actually making it a better situation for me. I feel a little bit like a princess and I'm actually having full night's sleep.  Much better than my eyes and ears peeled in paranoid restlessness.

The other funny thing, is that when I first emerge from the princess tent in the morning, it actually keeps the morning chill out.  Our little tent is balmy.  We can also pretend like we are in the fantasy suite at a Vegas hotel.  I only wish this little beauty was around the first half of the summer when we were losing sleep due to the buzzing of mosquitos in our ears and the sneak attack bites they were laying on us nocturnally.

As I'm typing, I'm also thinking it is a good thing that my husband and I spent the first part of our summer watching seasons one, two and three of Game of Thrones.  A princess tent almost feels like the right prop in a summer filled with all kinds of pestulant drama.

Of course if I ever tire of being a princess, I could start to go with the "On Safari" theme-Out of Africa-alternative-reality.

The Canadian Chronicles 2014: Bat Woman?

My husband was going into town for the night, so it made total sense to have a girl's night at the cottage.  My friend, another Deb, and her two girls joined us for a cottage sleepover.  We were just turning in for the night when I looked out the front window.  What time was it?  It was as light as midday outside.  I checked the time, midnight.  I called Deborah to the back door.

We both made our way out to the lake and we indeed had moon shadows that cast themselves across the white dock.  We could see the lake and the neighboring cottages almost clear as day.  The red kayak was red.  The yellow kayak was yellow, and of course, the blue kayak was blue.  It was amazing and we had both never seen anything like it.  It's always a nice surprise when you get to experience something that really reminds you about how beautiful and unusual and even magical nights at the lake can be.

The moon shimmered a glittery gold in the sky.  It was really remarkable.  We didn't know it just then, but we were witnessing the "Super Moon" a whole evening early.  We took beautiful pictures and then proceeded to hit the hay.

I awoke several hours later to the sounds of bats swooshing outside the open window.  I sleepily thought that it was good as I watched them dart back and forth.  They were back lit by the brilliant light night sky.  My husband was lamenting the lack of bats and the bounty of mosquitos this summer.  I knew he would be happy to know our pest control patrol was back.  Maybe the Super Moon had them extra active that night?

We've also been battling the mice population this summer.  They would reallly like to live with us, but we'd really rather they did not.  As I was contemplating whether to get out of bed to pee, I heard a rustling sound.  I turned on my very dim table night light and searched for my glasses.  My heart was pounding just a little bit.

As I've mentioned before, I like mice just fine outside. They are cute and tiny when they are romping in the grass.  Inside, near my  bed is another story.  As I scanned the room in the dim light something swooshed across the top of my field of vision.  No, it was not on the floor as I had tried to focus, but out of the corner of my eye it was as if something streaked across the top third of the room.

Holy Moly!  I grabbed my phone for added light, hightailed it the two and a half feet to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Now, I was in a heightened state of alarm.  I didn't clearly see something, or did I?  I was using my iphone as a flash light, and at the best of times my night vision is sketchy.  I opened the door a crack. I didn't see anything.  I reached one arm out and grabbed a pillow.  Then, I slammed the door back shut.

I peeked out again.  Holy Moly, I saw a streak again, but, I know I was more than a little panicked.  I quckly grabbed another pillow and slammed the door.

Self-contained in the bathroom, I quickly thought about my options beyond sleeping on the cold, hard slate tile floor.  My husband, two hours away,  Me with twelve feel between myself and the light swtich to the room.  Worse yet, because there were at least three empty beds in the cottage, I was twenty feet to the firmly shut doors in the darkened room...and clear lit, safe escape.

What does a woman in 2014 do?  She texts her husband..."I think there is a bat in the room. Eeek!"

Of course no response at 3 AM.  

I put all of the towels that were damp from showers, a total of two, on the granite floor, and shoved books and boxes and extra toilet paper rolls at the crack under the door (hey, my mouse friends could be working with the bats?).  Then ears peeled, I tried to get a few hours of sleep.

In the morning light, at 6 AM, after a restless, uncomfortable, and interrupted by terror sleep, there was alas no sign of any bat.  We had a good laugh at breakfast, and when my husband returned he gave me the rolling eyes that let the world know he thought his wife was batty.  Clearly the super moon had made me a super lunatic.

I was never so happy to be wrong.  Yet, I made up a spare bed for me to sleep in just in case. Ridiculed by my husband, he convinced me that he would protect me from any winged or four legged friends.  I was skeptical. It had to be something, right?

We cooked dinner. We made bat woman and vampire jokes.  The second glass of wine had me laughing at my own squeemishness and scaredy-cattiness, er battiness.  I began to relax about the whole sleeping on the cold, hard floor incident, when...

"Mom, there's a bat in the TV room!"  It was a yell, but there was no panic.  Birk and her friend, Izzy, were both very calm.  Me? I screamed, ran into the laundry room and slammed the door. I peeked out just in time to catch a bat the size of a well fed sea gull flying toward me.  Slam again!  There was no way after my sleepless night I could handle the visual. The rest of the friends and family battled the bat.  There were finally successful in shooing it out the door.

We all sat down for dinner. The converstion centered around how what kind of mother would make her children battle the bat while she hid screaming in another room.  The group marveled at the bat being in the wrong place at the wrong time and how happy he was to glide out the door.  Now that he was gone, time to get back to normal.  That is, everyone but me was thinking we were back to normal.  I grew up in the country.  There is never the rule of "ONE"  there is always the rule of "If there's ONE there is MORE."

As we settled in for the night, me on high alert, my husband snoring, I finally nodded off and neglected my vigilant watch.  We both awoke to a chattering sound.  Bat?  Mouse?  Chipmunk for goodness sake?  I grabbed my pillow and was in the bathroom with the door shut in record and practiced time.  Yes, this left my husband in the room with whatever terriffying woodland creature was out there, but hey, it was my idea to sleep in the spare bedroom, not return to the bat cave.

My husband, again, shooed the bat out and called me back to bed.  Exhausted, and not lilking the idea of another night on the floor, I grudgingly pulled the sheets up over my head and tried to sleep.  I learned in passing the next day that it was actually two bats.  We had a colony!  How nice.

Meanwhile, I started doing some bat research.  I googled how do you get a bat out of the house?  How do bats get in house?  I stopped my research, as the pictures of the bats started to feak me out even more than I already was freaked out.  I mean, I saw the bat flying from the TV room down the low ceiliinged hall way to the kitchen and that thing looked like a giant with it's wings flapping away.  Putting a face on the giant-winged Transylvanian creature with giant-sized fangs from google images was putting me over the giant-sized edge.

The next evening, we were making dinner again, and the familiar call came from the TV room...."Bat!"  By this point we all had our stations.  The rest of the family did whatever they did while I screamed in the laundry room.  My husband finally agreed to sleep in the spare room with me.  Feeling braver, I started my google quest again and researched local bat specialists--which turned out to be a thing.

What also turned out to be a thing, was that if you are sleeping and awake to find a bat in the room you need to be treated for rabies.  I was reading this out loud to my husband, who was really convinced at this point that I was crazy, and he told me to turn off the World Wide Web and get some sleep.  The number and duration of the rabies shot process was enough to fuel my nightmares.  

Apparently my 1 percent chance of certain death with no cure was not enough to get my husband concerned.  My fear of shots was 99 percent of my reason for not reading any further on the Center for 

Disease Control website.

After all, wasn't I awake and watching the bats fly outside the window?  How diseased could these country bats be?  Wasn't Old Yeller a victim of rabies?  How did he catch it?  

My girls are big fans of the Vampire Diaries.  Seems to me I am either going to be boring me, dead or undead.  

Gazebo Time!

One of the big differences between Northern California and Northern Ontario is the bug population.  Mosquitoes, black flies, horse flies, deer flies, May flies, spiders, moths, gnats...  You name it, it thrives by the hot and humid lake shore.

It wouldn't be so bad if we could peacefully co exist, but some of these creatures take one look at us and the dinner bell rings.  The mosquitoes buzz, bite and cause itching like heck.  

Enter this peaceful place down by the shore.  It is bug free and beautiful in a summer sprinkle of rain. We have been enjoying it so much.  Thank you to my wonderful husband for making it magically appear.  The best surprise ever! 

Stormy Days

The long trip from San Francisco was smooth.  Our car to the airport gave us a hassle about the number of bags we were bringing (about 14 plus our dog in her carrier).  I thought this might foreshadow the experience checking bags at the airport or collecting our bags after the flight, but all was well.

We zipped through customs and jumped into our gargantuan Yukon.  For anyone considering purchasing a Yukon with a family of 5, a dog and 14 bags, don't do it.  This SUV has the worst cargo room of any large vehicle we have rented.

Luckily my husband is a packing whiz and has had lots of practice dealing with my over zealous collection of duffel bags.  He had that car loaded in no time.  No one could breathe or put their legs in a normal position, but we all arrived safely at the cottage.

We arrived at the cottage to weather so hot, humid and in humane, that it is only how I can imagine the weather in Hell must be like.  On a side note, I'm going to be extra good so as not to end up there!

The intense heat was mixed with some intense and beautiful stormy weather.  

Everyone settled in quickly.  We are know the opening drill.  The best surprise was the new gazebo nestled in the trees down by the shoreline.  It immediately became the favorite place for everyone to hang out day and night!  Pictures to come later!

Punch Buggy, No Punch Backs!

Well, I just got the gears from my son, who is traveling in Scotland, that I have not posted for a very long time.  Yes, I gave myself the luxury of a blog vacation lately.  When you are not paid, it is very easy to give yourself a vacation after many many years of posting and posting and posting.  My son is keeping a blog while he is away, so now he knows it's fun, but sometimes it's hard to come up with something witty, wise, interesting or informative to say.

Lately, we've wrapped up the school year.  Here are the recent highlights.

Father's Day breakfast was served by Lizzy and Anna on our bedroom patio.  It was a lovely day.  There was a Father's Day massage, a Zingerman's lunch and a nice dinner at the Left Bank.

We missed Michael, but, he was off at writing camp in Scotland working hard and building stone walls.  You can read more about that portion of his trip on his blog by clicking here.

The girls were in tennis camp.  The best thing about tennis camp?  Shopping for cute tennis clothes, of course.  The camp was demanding physically, so they were tired, but happy.  On one afternoon, we went to the local library where they held "Reading to a Dog" day.  The Humane Society brought a dog who actually listens to the kids read.  It was pretty cute.  We also took this time to revisit our favorite childhood books.  You can see Lizzy below with her friend, Zoe.

At the annual Summer Solstice party, we enjoyed a beautiful night on the beach.  This year's effigy was pretty amazing as you can see below.  It went up like crazy once it was lit.  Out with the old, time for a fresh, start.

Kiki did not get lost this year at the party.  Last year she disappeared and we searched for over an hour in the dark, frantically trying to find her.  This time, we anchored her, and she still had lots of attention and treats.

Anna bravely let Roxy off the leash and let her wander around the beach.  It was pretty cute, Roxy stuck to Anna like glue.  Rather unusual for the dog who is apt to run off to greet any dog.  Any dog.  She loves other dogs so much, she must be the friendliest dog ever.  She loves to sneak in a French tongue kiss, so watch out!

Lizzy's friend Reynolds came along and enjoyed a giant roasted marshmallow.

This is not a very good picture, but last night was the "super moon."  It was bright and gorgeous.

Today, the girls left for camp.  They are off for two weeks of fun in the mountains.  Anna says that she has CPD.  Compulsive Packing Disorder.  We had to remove a giant stuffed animal, her entire comforter and pillow set, and thumbtacks and a poster from her back before she shipped out.

Mom and Dad were sad to see them go, but we are heading to the wilderness of Canada for a few days. Lots of posts to follow under the heading Canadian Chronicles.

Lizzy and her friend, Catherine, are off to be Counselors in Training (CITs) this year.  This is Lizzy's 8th summer at the camp.  Hard to believe that!  It's the 5th year for Anna.  Yikes, we are getting old, see picture above!

The big bus, getting ready to roll out!

Well, that's it for now.  More to come later!  Summer has officially started for everyone.

Everything Old is New Again: Leaving The County for The Country

I am sitting here, thinking I should be saying something holiday-ish.  Right now, December is feeling very slow and long.  I know that not everyone feels this way (especially not the people in the mall parking lot), but I am ready to have Christmas.  I'm tired of waiting.

We travel away from our home every Christmas.  We leave a nice housesitter to enjoy our decorations and our home, and we rush away towards Christmas Part 2.  This year, Christmas, The Sequel, is taking place at the cottage in Canada.

Sequel?  Yes.  We've decorated and celebrated and partied and Nut Crackered.  We've already eaten too much, drank too much and surpassed our set budget for holiday spending.  The bags are mostly packed, the presents mostly bought and there is only danger in shopping from here.


More importantly, when we go to the cottage, it is a lot like Country Mouse and City Mouse.

Let me explain.  We live in Marin County.  Sometimes it is referred to as "the bubble" in the Bay Area.  Everything is clean, green and manicured--both lawns and men and ladies.  Oh, and dogs and little toddler girls, too!  Vegetables are freshly picked and prepared at local restaurants.  Northern California wine flows like water.  Gournet grocery stores beckon you from every corner.  A fresh, open air farmer's market can be found daily.

Then we separate from our reality and get on an airplane to experience another reality.  We will arrive to a hopefully snowy, deep freeze of a landscape and then it is time to decorate and bake and re create Christmas for the second time in December.  I'm looking forward to it, but on the Wednesday before we travel, frankly, it sounds like a lot of work.  All of our Christmas is in about 6 suitcases and duffel bags.  Not all of it, we have plenty of decorations  awaiting us in the country.

I have travel anxiety.  Like I've said before, I'm not afraid my plane will crash or anything, I just am not very good at transitions.  Once we make it to the airport, check our bags, get through security, get on the plane, realize we are all in middle seats scattered throughout the plane, get delayed, frantically race to our next connection, arrive and our bags do not, get the rental car and begin our coutry road trip and drive two hours away from civilization, I will be fine and feeling on top of things.

City Mouse:
Oops, forgot the organic, locally sourced buttermilk.  Grab the keys and hit the corner market.  Back home in 5 minutes.

Country Mouse:
Uh oh, forgot the organic buttermilk, look in the Betty Crocker cooking bible for a substition that includes cider vinager that's been in the cupboard for 10 years.

City Mouse:
Oops, running out of underwear.  Look in clothes basket.

Country Mouse:
Uh oh, only got one bag at the airport, my underwear is not in that one bag.  Wash the underwear I'm wearing every night until my bag is dropped off at the local combination post office, fishing license, putt putt golf and grocery store a half an hour away.

City Mouse:
Oops, the cable is not working.  Call Comcast.

Country Mouse:
Uh oh, the electricity is out.  Better build a fire, get snow to melt for water and hit the sub zero outhouse.  It could be days until a work crew gets out our way.

City Mouse:
Oops, we are out of Merry Edwards Pinot Noir.  Once again, 5 minutes to the local grocery. Buy it and stick it in the sub zero fridge.

Country Mouse:
Uh oh, we are out of Merry Edwards (not hard to do what you are only allowed to bring in two bottles of wine per adult).  Now we must brave our local LCBO and be at the Canadian Government's mercy. Bottles of wine that we pay $5.00 for in California are $17.99 plus tax.  On a positive note, it does curb the wine consumption--$5 wine is still tasting like $5 wine no matter how much you charge for it.

Whether you be in the city or the country, happy holidays to you!

The Canadian Chronicles: The Summer of No Mosquitos

I was just sitting post coffee out on our front porch. The sun was streaming through the trees in soft, filtered light that illuminated the morning in a gentle way that speaks only of summer.

Usually, there are a few mosquitos buzzing about. It was funny that I noticed their absence, I sure do notice their presence!

This summer, along with being absent of rain, has been absent of mosquitos. I do not miss these critters, but it reminds me, fondly almost, of year's past.

One summer, it was like the kids had chicken pox! They had so many bites in so many places that they looked like they were battling a virus. If there was any malaria going around northern Ontario, we would have all had it that summer!

Another summer, a friend lay in her bed, deep into the night, armed with a bottle of bug spray. She just kept firing away, trying to eradicate the buzzing and biting. She went through at least two whole bottles of bug spray that trip--now every time I smell citronella, I think of my friend and the ch ch of the spray bottle.

There were many nights that we had to make a run for it from the car to the front door. Not only were we avoiding the bites, we were hoping to keep as many mosquitos as possible out of the house. Then, we would grab fly swatters and kill as many of the offenders as we could, before we went about settling in for the night.

I've always tried to think of a good reason for mosquitos and I've never come up with any. On the tail of writing about good guests and bad guests, I'm just enjoying that they didn't visit this summer.

Oh My!

Packing It Up and Packing It In

I am a ten year veteran of packing for our month long Canadian visit. Our children look forward to this trip all year. It is only second to Christmas in counting "sleeps" before the event.

Each summer I live in a house that I've never had a key for. I forage through Rubbermaid bins to find my clothes. I do this because I gave up on drawers long ago, as the mice are the only ones using said drawers properly.

Friends refer to our Canadian address as a Pioneer Camp. There are often power outages and then the outhouse suddenly becomes very attractive and the most popular "room" in the house.

Each year we unpack all of the sheets and towels and plates out of other well-used Rubbermaid bins. We set up "camp" for our four week stay.

Going from Marin County to the woods of Canada is always a little culture shocking. Not for anyone but me, I have to admit. Gone is take out, the grocery store around the corner, the computer, tv, our weekly housekeeper, camp, babysitters, laundry, movie theaters and anything that resembles a housewife support system.

I usually pack all kinds of crazy stuff to take along. The towel with a little stain. Sheets that are getting worn. 20 kinds of herbal tea that we never have time to sit and sip. My mass collection of books that have gathered dust for a year add at least 20 pounds to the duffel. Last, but not least, stray pages torn out of magazines of recipes that I've been meaning to try.

There are no real electronics. The night is quiet. The days are commute and carpool free. You need a real grocery list, because if you forget an ingredient, you might as well forget it.

If you're patient with my posts, because from now on out, it's posting when I can, I'll introduce you to a little bit of our Pioneer Camp Canada.

Arson is On Purpose, Right?

Well, folks, it is the remodel project that has turned into a complete rebuild.

Throughout the phases of the project, we discovered many things that we could have discovered in a very bad way. This is includes a firebox that was almost non-existent and could have caused a MAJOR fire. Thank goodness.

This whole project has taken me by surprise. I kind of liked the place the way it was. When we were discussing it last summer, I never thought it would be completely gone by February...but it is.

Speaking of fire, they burned the last bits of it a week ago. Now the process of rebuilding begins.

The old dame, the lodge on the lake is no more.

11 Year Old Guest Blogger: Ruth's Dream Vacation

If I could go anywhere in the world, I would go to Canada.

I would stay in our newly remodeled house and help my grandpa build some horse stables.

I would go tubing on our lake and maybe even try water skiing.

On other days, I would go on long nature walks, or take a trail ride with my horse.

Of course, I'd have to bring my cats: Patch to protect me and Sara to cuddle!

For dinner, I'd have soup and sandwiches or any other food that sounds good.

At the end of my glorious vacation, I will give the horse back to its owner (I was only renting it), pack up and go home.

I'll have lots of adventures to tell my family!!!

Canadian Chronicles 2009: Hearing (Alien) Voices

Look carefully at this picture. Please note two things:

1. This picture is taken at the end of the season. During our Augusts in Canada, you would NEVER find this many flashlights in the actual flashlight spot. You are actually guaranteed NEVER to find a flashlight when you need one.
2. The Green Alien Voice Changing Device.

In the picture, it's fairly easy to spot. In real life, you can't miss it. Thank you Godmomma Wendy. This was a birthday gift for John when he was quite young. If you want to give the gift that keeps on giving, give the Alien Voice Changer.

Every one of our children and our friend's children, our friends, their friends and probably the dog has used the Alien Voice Changer. It's been annoying the crap out of everyone for at least eight years.

Three more things to know:

1. It's been designated an "OUTSIDE ONLY" device. This, of course, initially means nothing, you just have to keep on yelling that phrase to get it to go away.
2. It's been forgotten and discovered so many times and used in so many different creative ways, that we have to make new rules for it ALL of the time.
3. It is excellent to awaken teenage boys by younger sisters. Expect bruising and blood.

I don't know where the GM (godmother) found this delightful instrument of torture, but I think I need to find out and send her family one of it's own.

The real reason for the cottage is that you can send all of the obnoxious stuff people give you there--then, you can forget it for the better part of the year. However, then you only use it for one month of the year, and then, kids, well, it lasts almost forever.

Lots Of Bloodsucking, And It Wasn't Just The Twilight Series

Need I say more? Although this is just a cool moth, those skeetos were at least this big!

Due to the wet, humid weather, the mosquitos were out in numbers never seen before. Decades from now, we will tell stories to our grandkids about the summer of '09 and it's monster-sized, insatiable bloodsucking mossies.

I will never smell the odor of citronella and not think of this summer. We coated ourselves in the organic, most natural defense system that we could buy. It cost $15,99 a bottle, and somewhere in the onslaught, I was wishing for good old "Off" with all of its toxicity--and some heavy duty DEET.

Weeks later, I still look like I'm recovering from the chicken pox. It's funny that we all read the whole series of Twilight and watched season one of True Blood whilst being sucked dry in real life. You could say I'm scared for life, due to my inability to not itch myself raw.

My most vivid memory is of Paula, in her bed, target spritzing individual mosquitos.

Ever heard the term "so bad it's hilariously funny?" Two days in and that's exactly where we were...

Why You May Want To Remove The Bubble Wrap

When you go on trips, sometimes you forget things. Sometimes it's your toothbrush, sometimes it's your underwear, sometimes it's your contact lens cleaner. Paula and I forgot that when you go on vacation without your husbands, YOU have to do all of the work. By yourself.

Arriving at the cottage in the pouring rain, it quickly became apparent that it was going to be a vacation powered by mom-power. Who was going to unload the bursting SUV? We were. Who was going to unstrap and haul the bubble-wrapped kayak off the top? We were.

The saddest part is that the list grew infinitely before our eyes:

1. Unpack? Moms, check!

2. Make the beds? Moms, check!

3. Put the melting groceries away? Moms, check!

4. Cooking

5. Cleaning

6. Laundry

7. Entertainment

8. Referee

9. Tuck in.

10. Doctor

11. Wake up

12. Watch over

13. Damage control

14. Fix it crew

15. Emergency clean up crew

16. Driver

17. Menu planner

18. Disciplinarian

19. Bed time story reader

20. Cleansliness moniter

I could go on and on. You, sadly, can probably get the picture. We had no one to shirk our duties to, unless it was each other.

By the time we had unloaded, sorted and made some food for the kids and various other things on the above list...we were too tired for wine, scrabble or anything else. Our first day of our big Girl's Trip and we were asleep. 9 pm EST. I think the little girls were still awake and running around.

Canadian Chronicles 2009: Are We There Yet?

We shuffled the girls through the rotation of sharing the hard as a rock, not-enough-room-for-a-little-butt-cheek, middle seat. By the time we hit a few grocery stores, the wine store (essential), and the sports store for a kayak, we had already been sitting in the darn car for hours.

And the rain rain rain came down down down.

Everywhere we went, the people were complaining about how it was the worst summer ever. We of course, hoped that we had brought bright, sunny weather from California. We refused to buy into the foreshadowing of gloom and doom.

Alas, we loaded our purchases into the car, tried to keep a stiff upper lip, and braved the torrential downpour.

At the sport's store, the nice man lashed the new kayak on top of the car, ignoring the pelting drops. He was Canadian, and he was making the best of it with smiles and sarcasm.

We drove slowly and carefully away from civilization. I squinted through the glass, trying to keep a steady eye on the road through the water-soaked windshield. The words 'Cabin Fever' kept slipping into my mind. As we twisted and turned out of civilization, I had flashes from "The Shining."

Canadian Chronicles 2009: One Good Idea Is All It Takes

It all began, like so many things do, over a glass of wine. My good friend, Paula, and I were wanting for a little adventure in our stay-at-home-mom lives. We only had one glass of wine. If we had two glasses, we might have come to the realization that a girls trip should not include "girls" under the age of 10.

But, as far as we knew, we were planning the getaway of a lifetime. We decided to hit the family Canadian cottage early, before all of the summer guests arrived. We plotted quiet nights, lazy mornings and lots of girl time. Kayaking, frolicking in the water and delicious food danced like visions of sugar plums in our heads.

Reality hit hard and fast. The bickering began on the plane. You might have guessed it, the quarrel was over the window seat.

The window seat has long lost its appeal for me. I now prefer the quick and easy exit of the aisle seat. I love not having to lope over strangers two or three times in a flight to stretch my legs and make a run for the bathroom. This should be why a person might take yoga, so they can bend themselves like a pretzel over the legs, bags, reclined seats and trays between themselves and freedom.

However, when you are seven, the window seat holds the magic of the fluffy clouds and the people and places as tiny as ants. The world looks nice and tidy when you are gliding over the geometry that bisects and trisects the landscape. The most mighty of reasons the window seat rules you may ask? When you have it, no one else does.

This theme popped again and again throughout the trip. Possession is 9/10ths of the law, and when someone else has something, that makes it all the more important that you have it, too. When you don't have it, and you are a girl under a certain age, the whining can turn an 8 hour trip into at least 16 hours.

When we got off the plane and got the rental car, the girls started to fight about who had to sit in the middle seat. Paula and I looked at the mountain of bags--we were going to have to work a small miracle to fit them in the car. Our eyes sagged with fatigue, and the whining, the whining, the whining, kept right on going.

We still had a two hour drive and the task of picking up a kayak and strapping it to the roof. Girls getaway? Are we there yet?

Canadian Chronicles: And Yet, It Doesn't Suck

When you watch someone take their very first bite of a s'more as their face is dimly lit by flickering bonfire--it doesn't suck. The cooking and prepping and bedmaking and tidying and seems to fade into the distance when there are happy faces around the bustling dinner table.

When the moon hangs low in the sky, candles are flickering on the dock, stars are shooting overhead and the milky way is sparkly and distant, yet close. Friends and family sit back in the muskoka chairs and sigh, and it sure doesn't suck. Pass the wine.

For all the work and exhaustion, there is reward. So, no matter how many guests we get the pleasure of hosting in a summer, we just keep inviting them back to share in good times together. No woman is an island, or a lake, or a cottage.

Gotta run, Birk just told me she re-arranged her bedroom. Get ready...