On Saturday I went away to a cottage on Lake Huron with some girl friends for a night. (Some of them were the same crowd who went to Quebec with me a few weeks ago.) You could be forgiven for thinking that some of us rarely sleep in our own beds, but that's because I don't tell you about the mundane, usual routine most of us carry out, which includes a book, a bath and lights out by 10. We're wild, we are.
The Great Lakes are huge...no wonder the first white people to see them thought they'd reached the Pacific. I remember a friend of mine who grew up in Calgary marvelling at seeing Lake Huron for the first time; she said she'd never seen a lake where you can't see the other side before. It's a wonder that they ever warm up enough to swim in at all, let alone for the better part of three months. (I've never been to Lake Superior, but I hear that is always cold enough to re-arrange your anatomy, should you be so foolish to venture in.) The lake wasn't quite warm enough to swim in just yet, and the weather outside didn't encourage it either, but we did dip our toes in and walk along the beach barefoot at around sunset.
The weather wasn't great while we were there, windy and cold, but we enjoyed the respite from motherhood and responibilities nonetheless. (I particularly enjoyed sleeping in without having a persistent, determined cat trying to get me out of bed to get him tuna.) There was lots of food (LOTS!) and drink and plenty of talk and laughter. I tell you, these women will talk about anything.
I came home full and sated and ready to face my family again. I just love my friends.
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