Twenty pounds of sloppy Joes, are twenty pounds too many.
But, I am not here to complain about a bunch of hamburger.
I am here to report the skinny on Xmas in August, 2021.
On a scale from one to ten, ten being the highest mark, this year came in with an almost perfect nine.
Not bad for the first time in a new setting, as in, The Cottage.
Mother Nature was to blame for one half of that missing point.
There is not much you can do when she decides to rain all over your holiday, other than, put on a bunch of hats, screw a spigot into a watermelon and or spend a little time three doors down the way.
When our phones began sending out warnings to seek underground shelter for the next thirty minutes, it seemed the right time for a shot and a beer, as there are no basements on the lake and if indeed it is your last thirty minutes you might as well make good use of them.
In earlier, sunnier times, as in the beginning of the celebration, the Boathouse Bloody Mary Bar was a complete success. However we did end up with quite a bit of leftovers even with all the help from my aunt Vicki and my cousin Tari. They did what they could. But next year I believe we need better advertising.
Perhaps a sign that says, FREE SHIT UP HERE.
To simplify things I let everybody know that they all drew my name and I even gave out gift suggestions.
But apparently only the two real Bloody Mary patrons who hailed from Oshkosh read my entire text.
And although I liked walking around in a tight V-necked T-shirt that said, Daddy's Little Monster, across my chest. My sweet Sven wasn't faring well with all the jokes. And those cute little pink tennis shoes they brought me came in real handy on the family deliverance kayaking trip, however they are no longer as cute as they once were.
My sweet Sven and I slept on the cottage porch over the four day convention.
And I am using any form of the term sleep, loosely.
The burbs, being cabins two, three and four, just down the way, were full of family members from as nearby as Lodi, Baraboo and Middleton, Wisconsin.
Half the state of Kentucky filled cabin number one, which was located at the far end of the burbs. It was a real high class place. But my brother stated that looks can be deceiving as it was over booked and it did not come with lake frontage.
We also occupied most of skid row just across the way, being numbers, nine, ten and eleven. These were smaller, one bedroom units filled with Oshkosh, more Middleton and Georgia peeps. A sketchy bunch, if you know what I am sayin'.
And last but not least we must not forget the tough youngsters from Sauk and The Dells and a few miscellaneous souls who crashed in the the camper set up in the yard.
The opening ceremonies were held Wednesday evening. This was when about half of the expected company came trickling, in as well as two surprise guests from Oshkosh. Everyone was greeted with hugs and kisses, twenty pounds of sloppy Joe meat in a slow cooker and a stack of buns.
The very same sandwiches that I pushed with all my might for the next three days.
I found but one taker in the end.
Thank you Casey.
Not you Casey. And not you Kaci.
The other Casey.
It was not surprising that Wednesday was a late night at the campfire. And that it went even later inside the cottage.
Thursday began with the grand opening of the BOATHOUSE BLOODY MARY BAR.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining and the birds were singing, just like Charlie predicted for the entire week. It was a perfect day for boating, fishing, kayaking, a bean bag tournament, as well as a little gambling, and cabin hopping.
Thursday was a late night at the campfire. It went even later inside the cottage.
Friday morning came early for some of us.
What the others did during this time, I cannot say.
But I do know that it was followed by the highly anticipated, Washer Box Tournament.
This is where competition is top notch and fierce.
And not without smack talk.
However, we are a family of good sportsmanlike conduct.
That is why all the losers congratulated the star athletes as they posed with their gold, silver and bronze medals for the press.
The fish fry is real good at the Bar and Grill, which is three doors down the way.
Their baked is even better.
Friday night ended up being a late night at the campfire. It went even later inside the cottage.
With Saturday morning came the rain.
It started early.
And it did not stop.
To this family, rain can only lead to lots of shenanigans in lots of places.
And we had lots of places and lots of family.
The sky finally cleared in time to make a fire that evening.
It was a late night at the campfire that Saturday. It went even later inside the cottage.
Sadly, Sunday was departure day.
Some were up and gone by the crack of dawn.
Others dilly dallied away the day.
There was an afternoon trip to the airport to send Georgia on their journey home.
The folks in cabin one stayed another night.
There were just three of them left in that big fancy mansion of theirs.
With torrential rain on Monday morning, the last of Kentucky drove away as Sven and I waved good-by.
I am happy to report that this year there were only three minor injuries over the entire four days. One being a skinned knee after a little mishap on the pier. A twisted ankle due to a toppling into a sand less sandbox incident while cutting through the neighbor's yard in the black of night. And a bee sting.
Speaking of bees.
There were lots of bees on account of all the flowers on Grandma Jan's deck that happened to be in their full glory this holiday. Absolutely gorgeous they were. Just as if mom had been there all along tending to them.
And Dad's Christmas Tree glistened above cooler alley throughout the entire event.
Now that my eyes are watering I think it is time to wrap up this report.
Hang on just a second. My sister is saying something.
"What's that Louisa?"
Louisa wants to know about that other half a missing point.
Well. Hmmm. How shall I put this?
"On a scale from one to ten on a bitch meter, the owner of the rental cabins is a perfect ten."
Hang on. My sister is talking again.
"What's that Louisa?"
She wants to know if a perfect ten is a good ten or a bad ten.
"Louisa, I would really rather not say. It's Christmas."