This was the first thing my father-in-law asked me when he picked us up at the Indianapolis airport.
"I . . . I don't know. I've never really been given the chance." It was mostly true. I recalled one fall break in college where I was invited to someone's lake house. There were only five of us, good Catholic kids all of us, no illegal drinking, and only one or two trips out on the boat. I think it was a speed boat, but I honestly don't remember. The one big memory I have of those few days is watching Georgia lose to Florida again, even though the Dawgs were having a stellar year. It's always depressing. As for being a "lake person," I don't think this experience qualified me.
B's dad drove us up toward Fort Wayne, where I finally met his maternal grandfather (long story involving family drama that has nothing to do with me), and then to their lake house on the Indiana/Michigan border. Coldwater Lake, for those of you who want bearings.
Omigosh, I LOVED southern Michigan in the summer! I had only ever been to visit when it was cold out (the closest to warm being in late March, and my southern blood did not think that was warm!). B's dad once stated that he could feel it getting kinda humid, and I had to laugh! The day we left Pensacola was the most miserable day. The kind where you walk outside and your shirt is immediately drenched in sweat. Now that's humidity, my friends! This pansy-arse 'humidity' in Michigan was lovely. It rained here and there but never enough to impede on our fun. I could definitely get behind this "reverse snowbird" idea.
|Coldwater Lake: the water really wasn't very cold|
I tried to cross off another item, though. We went fishing out on the pontoon boat one morning, but nobody caught anything. It was only my second time fishing in my entire life. (And yes, I caught something the first time, so I definitely can't check off my #62 now.) This time, I actually ended up losing a bobber, breaking the line (twice), and somehow getting all my worms eaten without even getting a fish out of the water. Oh well, it was still a great morning.
All in all, we had an awesome but way-too-brief trip. (Blame B's job for the brevity. Ugh.) I took a ton of pictures of everyone, but I don't really have any of myself. So here's a video of B and his brother "tubing." I use that term loosely because tubing down South does not involve a boat--just a river, a tube, and usually a cooler full of alcoholic beverages. I took B on my version of tubing back in June, and he had no idea what he was getting into. The good thing was that I could do it while preggers (minus the alcohol, of course). But here's the high-brow Midwestern version of tubing:
And, yeah, I think I'm a lake person after all.