Cabing!

It's been an age since I've been to a cabin. Cabin parties were a common summer staple from 1991-2000-Trading in my own cabin in Quamba for my friends out in scenic sunny Spooner, WI. A streak of high-maintenence S.O's nearly curbed my inherent enjoyment of getting outside, frassin' in nature. (Camping with Dorajar is literally the first time I'd been tent sleeping in...well, far too long.) So, I was pretty jazzed when I got the invite to head out to a cabin. In my feisty imaginator, I was conjuring images of dirt paths. Graded gravelly dirty roads. ("Take da dirt road" was how we'd describe the turn off to our cabin) and a 1, maybe 2 bedroom shack without running water, hand me down furniture, and space heaters. It would be lucky to have an indoor terlet.

You know. A cabin. Like the one in my brain. Or from my youth. Heck, I even thought that this cabin we were going to was in Wisconsin. (It wasn't)

So after I pestered her for info ("What do we bring, what do we need etc...") and I was told "Just some sheets" I became a little leery. The Boy Scout in me (Yes, I ate a Boy Scout. I was hungry a half hour later.) wants to make sure I've got everything I need and not be stuck in a bad sitch without materials if I can avoid it. So I made certain to ask our hostesses if we needed anything else and once again was assured that no, we didn't need to bring any extra food and that the cabin was actually up Nort' slightly past Mille Lacs*. (WTF, P? How did this conjured image of WI come in to your heid?)

Even though I say this to peeps, I truly need to have a little more faith.

Although, my first clue that things weren't what they were to appear when we met up with our hostesses on the road, following them back to the cabin (Ever notice when you're going to a cabin, ANY cabin- It's always a bastard to find the place? Like a roving fucking speakeasy, they are.) and we took a righty onto a driveway.


What? Do mine eyes deceive? Nope. It's a two strip black top driveway. Annnnd is that a sign saying that "this home is protected by ( ) security system" and is that a gabled roof garage with an additional living quarters for guests? And has this cabin got two bathrooms and a recent variance for a basement? Is that a player piano?

Right. Clearly this was not to be your typical cabin visit. Think that's posh? You shoulda seen the neighbors cabin. Oh, did I say cabin? I meant chalet. Lemme put it to you this way, do y'all remember Kevin Costners cabin in "The Bodyguard"? Right. That's the neighbors.

I gotta tell you though, in spite of not being the "cabin in my brain" we had a great time. Sure, it was rainy and shite, and it wasn't really conducive to campfires and s'mores we were productive in so many other ways. We played us some board games, ate a ridiculously cheap and delicious brefkist at a Diner in Crosby (sidenote: Sliced cheese is the Devil) antiqued until our feet hurt, and headed back for more games and Dinner ala' Moped. Not cowboy chili or hot dogs, but pasta with garlic/tomatoes/Red onions/feta and a side Caesar. Clearly, it was rough.

Sunday we needed to head back relatively early so we said our goodbyes and skedaddled. The drive home was idyllic and beautiful. (The leaves, just outside the TC Metro, are exploding with color. Why do I feel like I haven't seen the leaves change color in over 5 years?)

My family is in the process of re-building the sight of our old cabin for a new fangled model similar to the one we stayed at. While it isn't the same as the old one, it's looking to be a huge improvement.


Roughing it, indeed. ; )


* Creepy, is driving over the roads by Mille Lacs at night, and knowing...knowing that there is a big fucking lake right next to you.