My folks invited me to the lake with them for the weekend.
That Guy drove us down on Friday night. The trip was nice; we laughed, talked, listened to music. We learned that fireflies keep glowing after they splatter into your windshield and we made a game of it. 14 total. He introduced me to Mindless Self-Indulgence and I didn't mean to like it but I think I did. Then we found a Gen-X radio. It played the best of the 80's and 90's and we sang along and it was exquisite. He hit it off with my folks as soon as we got there. I knew he would, they're good people and so is he. They went to bed not long after we got there and we did the same.
I was the last one up Saturday morning. They were drinking coffee and talking on the deck out back. Mom and I walked the dogs, marveling at the fancy lake houses and the beautiful scenery of Monkey Island. We came back and went to the store while the men made eggs, bacon, toast. We had breakfast on the deck, then ventured into nearby towns for sightseeing. There's an old motorcycle museum with a bunch of stuff from Evel Knievel and Steve McQueen. There was also a 1957 Ariel - I sent pictures to my sister. We stopped at a little Route 66 car museum, where the men went to look at cars and mom and I poured through old postcards looking for interesting messages - my own little PostSecret adventure, I guess. I found a couple decent ones, and the woman who runs the shop pointed me to her website, www.postcardsfromtheroad.net. Very cool. We took a tour of the Pensacola Dam - a lot of stairs, but very neat nonetheless. We went home, Dad grilled burders and dogs, and we played some cutthroat Dogopoly. I was the cat (of course) and I got the best properties and built two doghouses each. I also got a "Bad Dog" card that said "Big Bone Tax" and laughed til it hurt. We went to bed with the game unfinished, and I put my monies in my purse because you can't trust those men.
Sunday was the Best Day Ever. Mom and I walked the dogs while the boys made pancakes and the finest sausage I've ever eaten. Then we went out and rented a tri-toon boat on the lake for four hours. Mom and I laid on the loungers up front, drinking and soaking up sun, laughing with the wind in our hair while the guys did their thing. Gen-X radio was on and we hit a couple of fierce waves that damn near drowned us - one hit so high the water was rolling off the bimini top! After about two and a half hours we dropped anchor. To my surprise, the water was AMAZING, so mom and I strapped on life jackets and went for a dip until the sun made us thirsty. The four of us lounged, drank, Mom and I ate. At one point Dad warned me that I was looking a little pink in back, so The Guy rubbed sunscreen on my back. We all went for a quick dip before it was time to bring the boat back. On the return voyage, Mom said "Whoa!" and I had the foresight to throw a towel over my face before we got hammered with a wall of water so massive, Mom said she actually had to hold her breath. After we took the boat back, we stopped at a lakeside bar called Ozzie's that refused to serve me or Mom because neither of us brought our IDs. Oops. We went back home for some amazing pork tenderloin and corn on the cob, and by time dinner was over, Dad was pretty drunk in a hilarious way, and kept insisting that we go to the Road Hog, which is probably the nicest biker bar I've ever seen and has bras hanging from the ceiling. I promised I'd bring one next time. So we went. The Guy spilled his drink all over the table (a drink was spilled and it wasn't my fault!) and I kept feeding the jukebox, with occasional help from Dad or The Guy. Dad convinced them to tune one of the TVs to AMC so he could watch Breaking Bad with no audio. On the way home, I pretty much demanded we stop for ice cream. I scored a box of fudge bars and ate one on the way home. By then we were all pretty much ready for bed.
Sunday I woke up really feeling the full extent of my wicked sunburn. Pancakes and a fudge bar fro breakfast and we headed home. The car ride was quieter - I slept a while.
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