We finally made it up to Lake Huron for some much needed beach time. However, it didn't quite go as planned as we made the trip with a 75 year old woman who we deposited in one of the many hick hamlets in northwestern Ontario. Not much more than an intersection, these towns always leave me anxious and uncomfortable. Also, throwing a wrench into my idealized beach day was the weather. I shouldn't have been surprised, but it was grey, rainy and windy. We were not deterred as we huddled in towels and defiantly parked ourselves next to the hurricane worthy waves.
Since we had driven so far there was no way I wasn't going for a swim - Lake Huron is definitely the best of the HOMES. It wasn't so much swimming as it was struggling to keep my head above the enormous waves. I was dog paddling with a former lifeguard who is training for a triathalon. Yeah. I had barely passed Bronze Medallion on my third try and I am training for a lifetime of exercise avoidance.
Shari Black had brought a nifty martini beach pack that included vermouth, vodka and gin, skewers and olives. The tablespoon of sand in each martini was complimentary. As she skewered the olives, the martini glass was sliding off the cooler from the wind. We had great food from the previous night's barbecue, frothy beach reads and good friends. Sun and warmth, we don't need you!
Eventually the sun did make an appearance as did my visor much to Shari's chagrin. She hated it about as much as I hated her honky tonk cowboy hat favoured by blonde whores on Spring Break.
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