So here I am realizing that I’ve not finished the story I’d begun nearly a week ago and when I realize that, I hurry myself over here to finish it.
So there we were, driving up to the U.P. and not stopping at Clyde’s for a burger since they prolly aren’t gluten and dairy free anyway, and pulling into the driveway and not having Mumsy waiting at the end, but only dad, which is great, but not the same. There we were, putting our borrowed Sea-Doo in with all hands on deck and settling into our little cottage and trying to laugh through the nervousness that accompanies unbidden tears and heart sickness.
And there we were in the most beautiful weather we’ve ever had, watching kids tube and dig clay out of the river and use it to make little men and trying to get Lulu to lay down for the love of Mike and make memories they’ll always have since I’ll put them in a book and tell them when they’re older. And it’ll look something like this:
grant’s pike. uncle bruce rolled it in gluten free flour and fried it up for us.
No significance to this picture. Just, seriously, cute.
when you invite three hundred people over for dinner, you have to grill nearly eight hundred pieces of chicken.
and have a small town parade led by a little girl on her power wheels in the slowest speed. a speed so slow we got dizzy riding our bikes in circles to try to go as slowly as her. a speed so slow it took us nearly forty minutes to travel the mile from the store to the cottage.
waiting for the fireworks. killing time with sparklers.
Poor grandpa was being eaten alive during the fireworks show, which was spectacular as usual.
Sweet Jessie took pity on this tired mama one day and put Lulu to sleep for me.
Lulu’s first fish.
some of our favorite cousins.
Our mystery trip to Duck Lake. To get there, you have to hike through the woods and just when you think the mosquitoes are going to drive you nuts, there it is.
We had a picnic on the bridge before jumping off into the warm water.
The whole area is a nature preserve donated to the State of Michigan by Charles Osborn (except if you live on Sugar Island you have to pronounce his name “Oz-burne”, former governor of Michigan. On the hike back to Duck Lake, you’ll pass the ruins of his home.
Dan’s Grandma and Grandpa faced their own giants and came, even though they knew their daughter wasn’t going to be there. They were one of the highlights of our week.
So was this kid.
Cousins that fish together stay together. It’s a proverb or something.
We did this for hours a time each afternoon.
This is me being real and committing to posting at least twice a week from now on. Even if it’s short. Even if it isn’t deep. Which is probably won’t be. Just warning you.