Thursday, August 11, 2011

If I Had A (Few) Million Dollars

I'd buy a houseboat.

Two weeks ago today we were dropping off the girls at The MC compound, packing two vehicles to capacity with coolers, food, beverages, bedding, swimsuits, and beach towels, and preparing for three days of floating on Lake Shelbyville. As much as I love the girls and our daily adventures, there is no better weekend of the summer for me than the one that I get to spend with my husband and friends free of any mommy duties. I used to feel guilty about that, but now I realize those few days away give me a much needed end-of-summer boost designed to keep me from eating one or both of them alive. They are sweet and wonderful and precious, but we all reaching our breaking point. Seventy some days together makes the three of us a little tense, and I know the girls enjoy the time away spent with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents as much as we do.

The agenda on the boat is pretty simple: eat, drink, float, jump, laugh. Rinse and repeat over 72 hours.

We experienced our first on-the-water thunderstorm Friday night. It has rained every single year of our house boat adventures, but this was the first year to have thunder and lightning. Luckily the storm blew in after we had already retreated to the indoors for the evenings and although Saturday was overcast we managed to avoid rain delays on our water activities during the day.

My brother brought his boat out late Saturday afternoon for a visit. His boat matched ours perfectly (it's important to coordinate, you know), and it was quick to see that his water vessel was the attention grabber on the lake. He took me out for a ride from one cove to another, and he was flagged over for inquiries no less than four times. He should be really proud of the work he did on his boat. I felt like a celebrity riding in it!

It's no secret that we own whatever cove it is where we choose to drop anchor. Dubbed the SS Orangejello, the bright orange color of the boat was a definite plus in the "eye catcher" category, and our smuggled on speaker system once again drew the masses toward us. Unfortunately, in our case the masses included:

  • two boats of drunks ten years younger than us who basically took over the top deck of our boat for somewhere around seven hours. One of the guys was a co-worker of one of our passengers thereby granting them initial permission to board, but I don't think any of us anticipated them literally pulling their boats over to ours to tie up. We also didn't anticipate them going topless, bottomless, peeing over the top front deck, dropping a fumigation worthy mega deuce in our bathroom (twice), and quite possibly fornicating via the buoyancy support of noodles a few feet from the back of our boat. Talk about not knowing how to spell "class"! We really just allowed them to stay as long as we did because although they were ten years are junior and had yet to begin their childbearing years, the five woman of the SS Orangejello (13 children collectively, for the record) still looked better in swim suits than they did.
  • more uncovered boobs, these of the middle aged saggy variety. I was distracted by those though thanks to the boat mate sporting a royal blue speedo. Work it!
  • even more exposed skin. It was the summer of nudity, apparently, although this version came in the form of what we assumed was bordering on illegal activity. Intimate relations between a man easily in his 70s and a girl who couldn't be much over 20? You can't unsee that.
  • Muskrats, two huge schools of minnows, and a plethora of bluegill feasting on chicken marinade that may have been thrown over the side of the boat. The offending litterer learned a valuable lesson: oil heavy liquid food products do no dissipate in a lake as well as you might anticipate.
The General also learned a valuable lesson on our houseboat weekend. A lifelong friendship left him confident in his decision to push a very reluctant (and freshly showered) Angie into the water.

She was less than amused by his boldness and designed a plan for retaliation over the following 18 hours. A cooler filled with ice cold water over the unsuspecting head proved to be sweet revenge.

I've spent several moments of the last two weeks dreaming of being back on that boat. The water, the sun, the soft breeze, the lack of responsibility . . . I'll be counting down the days until we meet again!

No comments:


Related Posts with Thumbnails