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Published: August 6th 2013
An August long weekend in Dryden is always blogable. It is a lot of people in a small space, and half of them are bat crap crazy. I will blame any negative tone on my sore back, which did not result in a pleasant few days leading up to the trip. Now that I am mostly walking upright, the mood is improving. Slightly.
The ride to camp was long. Mostly because of the endless complaining about the lack of luggage. I had two charges with me, and one was just back from a long, exotic vacay. And came with two suitcases that couldn’t have fit in my trunk if it was empty. And it certainly wasn’t because I had all the fixins for four cakes, which was my job for the big birthday party. It is shocking that one small person can have 6 bags. So the ride starts off great, but within the hour it starts: But I don’t have that since I don’t have my luggage; I could show you but I don’t have my luggage; Too bad that is in my luggage... The day of the cooking contest I did see why she needed her
luggage, poor thing had to pull clothes out from her yardwork pile, which included a hat that may have come from the poorer parts of Mexico.
Earlier my hubby had sent a message regarding the amount of alcohol that would be required for the weekend. It was starting to make sense.
The party itself was great. The info that came out however, was disturbing. Let me start by saying that I never leave anything at camp. No clothes, ever. No shoes, no personal items. Contact lens solution and that is about it. Mostly because I frequently complain about the amount of old crap that accumulates at a camp. The land of old rejected towels and threadbare sheets. Got something that is technically garbage but don’t really want to throw it away? Bring it to the camp. A few weeks ago we were up for the weekend, and had a sauna and swim right before we left, so my bathing suit was wet. Soaked. My brand new bathing suit, from Boutique Target. So against my better judgement, I decide to hang my bathing suit up in the sauna, instead of putting it in a bag and bringing it home. Big mistake. BIG. I am talking to the nieces at the party, when one tells me about a sister doing a handstand, which I will agree was an impressive feat in itself, given how much she complains on a 5km run-walk, emphasis walk. She was saying that she was going to put the pic up, but that she was wearing a mismatched bathing suit at the time, because she had ‘forgotten’ her suit bottoms and ended up wearing the communal suit. I started sweating. Communal suit. OMG. There is only one female suit at camp, and old black, see thru, stretched to no ends ugly suit. There is no way she would put that suit on. There is only one other suit there. I ask to see the pic, and what colour the communal suit is, even though I know the answer. Red. Sure enough, there is the pic, of someone else’s crotch in my brand new red bathing suit bottom. Unbelievable. Perfectly cute new suit, now needs to be burned. I am hoping to secure a copy of the pic so that I can even the score.
Like all family gatherings, people find the similarities to talk about. It has been a few years, maybe 4, since all the Hoshs were together, with the cousins. This visit could be best described as a CPAP promotional video. The camera cuts to a few ‘middle aged’ folks with a variety of health related issues are sitting around talking, when they realize that they are all on the same remedy, CPAP! Never have they slept so soundly. The all share stories of how the CPAP is a miracle worker. Enter a new family member. The commercial begins again…
The next day is the cooking contest. I am the reigning champ, so I get to set the rules. Silly me, I thought that would be a nice change to the second place, always a bridesmaid runner up. Wrong. My theme is butter. Because I love butter. Apparently I am one of the very few. The emails about how much the theme sucked should have been my first clue. The fact that almost no one participated should have been my second clue. Outlaw winners don’t get much support. Fortunately it will be on track for next year as my sweetie took first place with an amazing dish that I couldn’t eat! Lobster cooked in butter – guaranteed crowd pleaser. As much as you can please this crowd. Considering there were only 6 entries, there were over 20 opinions! At one point Ed threatened someone with a knife. Everyone thought it was a joke. I could see the look in his eye…
I will say that there were a few blog fans in the crowd. I assume that everyone likes to get some credit in the blog. I know most of my readers enjoy the stories about my hubby. He provided virtually no material this weekend. He worked like a dog and was very sweet on me. That’s not something you have ever heard in this blog, which should show you how honest I am in my recordings. The cousin however, was happy to oblige. We were having a quieter part of the evening. Watching what may be one of the worst movies, The Lifeguard. How the topic came up, or if it did, I’m not sure. The comment seemed to come out of the blue. I will call the cousin V, to protect his identity. He says I took typing in high school because the teacher was hot. She was really good looking. She had a giant rack. Giant. I took two classes with her. I’m so glad now that I can type.
So I was saying this afternoon that I needed a bit more info for the blog. Ed was shocked that I didn’t get enough in the course of the weekend. That lead to the discussion on funny vs mean. And multiple blog deletions.
A few hours later, I hear Ed saying to B, I will just come out there in my underwear. B notes that the haircutting kit came with what was later called a poncho. Now they are out on the deck, Ed almost naked, getting a free haircut. Thanks honey, I needed a pic.
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