After dinner on a recent Friday night at the cottage playing Trivial Pursuit, drunk:
Foodie: How does USSR appear on the Soviet flag?
Foodie: Nope. It’s CCCP.
Foodie: Don’t you want to win fair and square? If you even win.
Beast: I will win because of skill. Plus, I gave you that Peter O’Toole one you messed up.
Beast: Something about a Peter O’Toole movie and you answered “Lawrence of Olivier” instead of Lawrence of Arabia.
Foodie: Okay smart ass, who wrote One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?
Beast: Ken Kesey.
Foodie: How in the hell did you know that?
Beast: Every idiot knows that.
Foodie: For the pink pie and the game…ask me anything!
Beast: What 62-minute radio program did Orson Wells narrate in 1938?
Foodie: War of the Worlds! OMG I WON!
Beast: Congratulations on naming the only radio broadcast that everybody knows.
We arrived at the cottage at 6:30 p.m., got the food into the fridge and glasses of falanghina into our hands and headed straight to the dock.
It was our first trip to the cottage this year and we wanted every minute to count. I planned on starting (and finishing) Madame Bovary, while the Beast read some Chekhov short stories.
We also wanted to work on our tans. Unfortunately, we didn’t get much sun besides an hour in the evening when we first arrived. In fact, it was quite chilly and overcast our entire time there. Still, I tried to will the warm weather by wearing my bathing suit under my layers of clothes. The only thing that did was make it difficult to pee.
Our first dinner consisted of grilled salmon with fresh dill, asparagus and green onions.
Saturday night’s dinner was basically the same, except we had pork chops instead of fish.
I also brought along a pint of Ontario strawberries and decided to make shortcake, which I’ve never made before. It was surprisingly easy. (I used butter rather than shortening because I didn’t bring shortening.)
In between eating and drinking, we read our books, played four games of Trivial Pursuit (one of which I was the victor), laughed, hugged, danced and went up to the bunkie to sift through the Beast’s dad’s DVD collection. We settled on Lincoln, The Darjeeling Limited and Finding Forrester and watched all three.
We also searched the cottage and surrounding premises for a now-mythical jean jumpsuit, which the Beast’s parents swear they’ve seen lying around. I have seven-year-old photographic evidence that prove it once existed.
But once again, we couldn’t find it.
We did, however, discover many hats because when you’re at a cottage you never know what sort of disguise you’ll need–safari leader, Van Gogh, pirate, Civil War officer– in case of an emergency.
I also built a fire in the metal pit thing on the dock to keep warm while I finished my book. The Beast thought the smoke was distracting (he said I used damp wood.) I found it intoxicating.
After consuming a bag of chips, several hotdogs, strawberry shortcake, guacamole and chips, cheese and crackers, two dinners and four bottles of wine, we decided that a nice salad would make for a fine meal before we left the cottage on Sunday afternoon.
I tossed together some assorted greens, fresh English peas, snap peas, cherry tomatoes, a little goat cheese with lemon and olive oil. It was like a tonic for our stomachs, like 44 hours at the cottage was for our spirits.
On the drive home, south on highway 400, the sun began to shine.