Lucky 13

Thirteen years ago today, I married the captain 'o cheap.

He had more hair back then.

I had less.

Even then we were saving pennies by doing things ourselves. See the candle holders behind the party? Flower arrangement by my mom. See our bouquets? The bridemaids and I sat on the kitchen floor at Mom and Dad's the night before the wedding making our own bouquets after our "florist" backed out on us....that day. The cake was made by my auntie - it was gorgeous. Even my gown was lovingly and painstakingly made by my mumma.

Not much has changed.

Except the hair thing.

Happy anniversary, sweetie.

How do you lose a set of sheets!?!

I'm 90% sure I bought a set of single sheets for the bed out in Slanty (the bunky). I can only say I'm 90% sure, because the only reason I remember it at all is because I found a pillow case on the pillow in there (hidden under the pillow sham) that made me stop and say "Oh yeah!!! I did buy sheets for this bed. Where the heck are they?"

I looked in the linen cupboard at the cottage but didn't see them. Maybe I took them home for the winter to wash 'em? A cursory inspection of my slightly-less-than-tidy linen cupboard at home yielded no matching sheets. *sigh* I hate losing things.

This means two things:

1. I won't rest until I find those gosh-darned sheets. When I lose something, I become obsessed with finding the lost thing. It nags at me and makes me crazy. -er. Crazier. Every time I see a bed sheet I'll clench my jaw and say "Ooooo... those darned missing sheets! Where are they!?"
2. I'm going to have to empty out my entire linen closet, clean, and restock it to try to locate the missing sheets. 

I was perfectly content to turn a blind eye to the condition of my linen closet, but there's no avoiding it now. The sheets must be found.

Honestly. How do you lose a set of sheets!?

We make our own fun

One day this summer, Handy Dad and I decided to make kites. I have no photos of this event because my hard-drive died and took all of my photos from 2011 to a watery grave (although it wasn't responsible, let's blame the lake, shall we).

They were made out of vapour barrier, tuck tape (left over from the shower install), bamboo tomato stakes, and kitchen twine. We're very resourceful. The looked like real kites. Dad's was diamond shaped, mine was a delta wing.

They flew like bricks.

We had a hoot trying to get them to fly, though. Handy Dad even attached his death-spiral kite to a fishing pole to help hold it aloft in the hopes of catching a breeze.

Fast forward a few weekends to last week. We brought real kites up to the cottage. Hurricane Irene was making her way north, and strong winds were promised.

The only spot on the lake where they could get a consistent breeze was out on the dock. Did dad use the fancy store-bought kite we brought with us? No. He used the tuck-tape kite.

It spiralled menacingly over the captain's head before diving into the lake, after which it performed beautifully causing maximum drag as Dad tried to reel it in.

We make our own fun at the Lodge.

CUCUMBER

You have to say that with a giant's voice... like you would say "Fee.... Fi.... Fo.... Fum", ya?

CUCUMBER...

The garden is trucking along, madly producing all manner of veg and herbs.

Plants crave seaweed. Who knew?

We've already got a couple of cucumbers that are easily 6" long.

We also have many other gherkin-sized cucumbers on the way. I expect this weekend when we return, we'll have a handful of radishes to harvest, too. I wasn't sure there'd be enough growing time left for these veggies, but so far I'm very encouraged. As long as we don't get an early frost, we'll be enjoying our very own fresh produce.

I've got so much basil right now, I might have to can some pesto in the fall. (shucks darn).

I take it back...

Some cottage games are exactly how I remember them.

Take croquet.

This is not cottage croquet. Look at the neatly manicured lawn, tidy wickets, smooth playing field, and lack of obstacles. Those two over in the chairs aren't even heckling!

Cottage croquet is dirty croquet, best played on a steeply sloping yard with many hills, bumps, rocks potholes, and precipices. If there isn't real danger that your ball will end up in the water, it's not dirty croquet.

Our wickets are dirty wickets.

Handy Dad lines up a downhill shot that, if he puts a little too much mustard on it, will roll straight down the steps to the dock.

This would be my red ball under the chair. Please note the captain cleverly positioning himself to prevent any balls from rolling down the embankment into the water.

Please note my red ball at the edge of the embankment. Six more inches and it would've gone straight downhill.

I'm not sure which was worse: playing downhill or playing uphill.

I think we were all relieved when Handy Dad finally won.

This is NOT lawn darts!!

Would you look at this absurd thing we found in the garden shed this past weekend?

These purport to be lawn darts, but I'm not buying it.

THESE are lawn darts.

So what if the Canadian government banned them (not only banned them, but urged their destruction *gasp*) because a child was brain-injured when a dart penetrated their skull....

These are not lawn darts.

OK. I can see how lobbing a heavy, metal-tipped projectile with varying degrees of accuracy towards a small target placed on a lawn frequented by unpredictably moving children might not be the safest of cottage pass times. But gosh darn it, I loved playing lawn darts as a kid! There's something about that earthy *thock* as the dart stabs into the grass that's very satisfying. Also, you get your lawn (and possibly your skull) aerated for free. Shop around, that's a pretty good deal!

(sigh)

Cottage games just aren't what they used to be.

A Quick Change

Presto change-o, Alakabosset,

Change this faucet...

Into THIS faucet!

Do you likey?

Me likey.

Much prettier. And for $10, well worth having a redundant faucet in the garden shed. I plan to use it in the bunky when the time comes, so it's not entirely going to waste.

The best part about switching out the faucet in the bathroom? NO POO HOLE STINK.

That's right, folks. As of the time the faucet was swapped, our stink woes appear to be.... (wait for it)... behind us.

*snigger snigger*