So, it was Canadian Thanksgiving this past weekend. My mom organized for the family to meet up at a rented cottage on Rice Lake, just outside of Coburg. The location was lovely; the lake and trees were beautiful; the cottage has lots of potential if it were maintained properly, but turned out to be a sketchfest.
Seriously. There were 3 bedrooms downstairs (where we has planned to, you know... sleep. Instead we dubbed them "the murder rooms" and avoided at all costs). But the whole basement smelled of mold, and the walls were black with mildew. Thank goodness there was a bedroom upstairs, and the large living room could accomodate the air mattress my uncles (serendipitously) had with them, the fold-out couch mattress we hauled upstairs, and the couch. It was like a big slumber party all weekend! Which was kinda fun, but I didn't end up sleeping well. The place was dirty, had no silverware, had the creepiest animal skin rug I've ever seen (we think it was some kind of crazy hyena?) and we weren't actually sure that the water was drinkable (thank goodness we had lots of wine, right?) But everyone survived, and had fun. We definitely made the best of it. I think that this series of texts from Sunday sums up the weekend nicely:
[Family is in town shopping; hubbub and I return to cottage after breakfast with some friends, and put turkey in oven]
Sister: There's a badger in the green rough tote
Sister: *baster
[Interlude: I attempt to baste the turkey]
Me: Turns out the tea towel is highly flammable... If you guys were to come across some over mitts...
Sister: I lit the towel on fire this morning too. There's oven mitts hanging on side of cupboard on right side of sink, above coffee maker.
And then when we got home, we made turkey stock, pickles, and yogurt. Not surprisingly, I'm pretty wiped today!
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