You know I went up north. I had a discouraging couple of days; nothing major; disappointments but life happens while you're making plans, right? Right.
Regardless it felt amazing to get up to the house. I couldn't get stripped to my suit and down to the lake fast enough. The kids and I just kicked around and loved it.
Cheech had to come later, so I built the bonfire and after a late supper, we decided to make "ever mores" (Thanks Northerners) which is a s'more with a Reese peanut butter cup instead of a Hershey bar. Let's pause and give thanks for peanut butter because it makes my life SO much happier. *sigh* Well some of the wood for the outdoor fires is a little punky and old. It gives a lot of smoke and promise but little flame so I went to the brush pile and picked up an old branch. It was longer than I was tall so I whacked on a near by tree to break it into smaller pieces, which all occurred nicely. I picked up my couple of pieces, cradled them in my arms and headed back to the fire. I felt a pinch and shifted my load. I tossed one log in and held two. Another pinch. I looked down because there was a third, fourth...and
"HOLY SHIT" my hands were black and seething. Ants. I had broken open a FIRE-TRUCKING ant nest and was cradling the the whole pissed off colony in my arms. I threw the other logs into the pit and began to scrape myself. My hands were burning. All I could squeak and chirp was
"Ew! Ants. EVERYWHERE~ EWWW MORE! AUGH~" while hopping and dancing in the firelight...Dances with wolves? Pshawwww. He's got NUTHIN on me...
The fire took off and flames raced for the moon. Who'd have thought the new clean burning fuel was right under our noses (in our tree)...ants are flammable. I giggled, cruelly fantasizing that I heard the tiny screams of the bastards who bit me. Trite? Yes. Do I like it? You know I do.
I settled down (sort of...I had the willies and am still a little wiggly) and made myself an "Anya", killing the pain with a yummy beverage of the adult kind. After checking my bed for ant ninjas (they're everywhere), I slept wonderfully, listening to the lake, the breeze...maybe it was ant venom...do they have venom? I love this place.
Morning brought a new day and new experiences. Maddie wanted to move the guest room around to surprise our next round of house guests (remember to keep that look when you see it). I was moving a set of shelves that was built in the fifties with lead and petrified redwood trees. It weighs a ton and would withstand Katrina force winds. I know it's solid since I promptly dragged that muthah right over my toe, peeling the skin away like a banana from its peel. My face puckered and I bit my lip pulling my injured piggy back sharply and cradling it with my lumpy somewhat swollen hands.
Maddie burst into tears. "Are you all right Mom? Oh my God, did you cut your toe off?"
I hissed and muttered. I held my breath and tried to think through the pain devouring my leg. Then I opened my eyes to look at it. I think if I'd have cut it off, we'd have been in better shape. It's yucky. But I cleaned that one up too and went on. I watched the kids swim and loved being here. I enjoyed Cheech cooking some fantastic food. As a grand finale for Saturday night we had a bonfire and Cheech lit some fireworks. Winston hates fireworks.
We didn't really think about it; we're selfish that way. We lit them and enjoyed the bright lights, the noise : "ooooo-ahhhh" Winston decided we'd had enough. He jumped into the middle of the fray and attacked the hissing demon. Oh yeah. Little jerk got ahold of it too. So at this point, it would not really surprise you to hear that he was running around like a tiny cannon, shooting hot phoshorous and explosives from a tube. I'm also thinking you would not be shocked that I stepped on the hot...coal? Sparkler? Ember? Whatever it was, so that I burned my foot; the same foot that met the heavy shelves earlier in the day.
It was a great weekend.
...that ended too soon. We just couldn't tear ourselves away; literally (we'd have lost too much flesh if we'd have tried). We left well after supper and began our drive home; through the mountains. I say this because it was half way down the second or third hill I realized I had no brakes.
Want me to wait? Through the mountains. No brakes. You know how I joke all the time when you have to go somewhere? " Drive fast. No brakes?" Yeah. Karma bit me right on the ass for that statement. So it was a tense ride home at 11pm. The car whined and cried all the way, shimmying like a tantrumming two year old every time I stepped on the chubby pedal. It was like stepping on an overripe kiwi. New Jersey. Safe. I had them fixed Monday. Apparently, I had NONE up front and was riding 1/32 in the rear...almost nothing.
FABULOUS!
So I hope your weekends were a little more sedate. Mine? It was good; in spite of it all.
Thanks for giggling along.
