So earlier this month I went to Canada with my great, graceful, gorgeous friend Sarah. We stayed for a week at a lovely cabin with a private stretch of beach on the shores of “Lake” (that motherfucker is a SEA, thank you) Huron, and it was a magnificent escape from the everyday world. Not that I need to escape from my everyday world, as mine consists of mostly cats and beer, but still – Wide open lavender skies and shimmering waters are a change from cats and beer.
We’ve been to this same cabin before a few years previously, but only for a short weekend (still fell in love with the place the first time I stepped foot on the property and realized I could hear waves inside the house, though.)
Sarah and I have extremely varied interests, but one thing we can agree on is that food is the bee’s knees, so we cooked a lot. I did all the stove cooking, and Sarah did all the grilling. I don’t grill. Every time I even think about grilling, something or someone outside catches on fire. Sarah, however, is some sort of crazy . . . meat sorceress. I marinated lamb chops in garlic, lemon, olive oil, wine and oregano, and she grilled them to perfection.
It was a good time. We did nothing but cook, lay out on the beach all day, read and write and listen to the waves crash against the shore. Why can’t life be like that all the time?