Friday

I’m starting to forget what it feels like not to be hung-over.

Friday afternoon the puppy (I’m dog sitting) and I loaded into my car and headed for the cottage. The ride took a surprisingly long time. I believe it was the first time I’ve ever actually gone the speed limit on any of those roads but I had put my cheque for my speeding ticket in the mail that morning. So, I was inspired to take my time.

We arrived in time for dinner. Another one of my mothers chicken and rice casseroles on display at the center of the table. Sigh. I just didn’t realize you could do the same thing over and over again and have it always come out tasting the same way; bland.

So by the time I’d eaten and helped with the dishes her very own Ya-ya sisterhood showed up. Great ladies, I must admit. These women have been getting into trouble since before I was born. Loooonnnnggg before I was born. So it’s always fun to see them get together because inevitably someone slips up and tells you a story about your parents having sex, or your mom being so drunk she fell in a ditch or something equally embarrassing.

There had been a tent installed on the front lawn for the reception so we began to decorate it all up as the wine and stories flowed. As we put the finishing touches on everything, mom was drunk as per usual and she and her girlfriends were at a table drinking and chatting up a storm. Luckily, my best (girl) friend Emma showed up with her husband who I have a wonderful ‘brother I never wanted’ relationship with, as did my absolute favorite relative my cousin Scott who just moved down south. Em had also brought along a little German Boy who is staying with them to learn English. Long story. Once the five of us found the beer fridge we were the recipe for success.

We laughed and joked and threatened to throw each other of the end of the dock. Em and I occasionally stole away to whisper secrets like school girls and the German told us funny stories about his time working with Autistic Kids who wouldn’t stop masturbating. Long after all the adults had toddled off to bed, I couldn’t help sitting back and watching my friends together and thinking that some day we’d be the one’s with 40 years worth of stories, who toddled off to bed early while our kids sat out repeating history. I’m ok with that.

So before long, as always does happen when drinking in the late hours at the cottage someone (and no one will ever remember who it was) says we should all go swimming. And of course, we’re all happy to strip down to our bra’s and underwear and jump into the water, Emma more happy then the rest as she’s discovered the ladies briefs, and has been talking about them all night.

Swimming doesn’t last long, no amount of beer could have prepared any of us for the temperature of that water. We tried to continue drinking in the water, and that didn’t even help. I was out within 5 minutes and the rest followed suit.

As we sat, shivering, drunk, happy, soaking wet, my sister appeared. I’d forgotten what we’d all been waiting for, what the parent’s could stay awake long enough for. My sister, her husband, her mother in-law and sister in-law had finally arrived after a delayed plane ride. They were all quite tired, which was obvious, we offered them beer but no one wants to play. They are tired and ready to sleep.

Luckily for them, we’d drunk all the beer and Em’s husband was ready to chauffeur everyone to their rented cottages. Hugs all around and promises of a break of dawn boat ride, and everyone piled into Em’s new car and headed to bed. I hit the couch, just before 2am. Blissfully happy.