Once upon a time in the beautiful land of Cleve, five lovely maidens made an annual journey across miles and miles of wilderness to an enchanted and intoxicating island, where the natives were quick to laugh, eager to love and interested in first names only. For two days each year these luscious beauties would experience the mystery and wonder of the world’s wackiest brownies, the world’s shortest shower and the world’s longest bar, all in the world’s lostest weekend that will forever be Put-in-Bay.
After the weekend was over the maidens turned back into…poof!...us girls. As the years went by, love, maturity, responsibility and crabgrass took the reins. Marriages, families, health issues, jobs, Seinfeld, The Sopranos and the Internet were cause for major distraction. And while we all remained good friends, our individual paths took us in many different directions, separating us a little more and a little more as life in general lead the way.
It’s funny how things work out though, because as luck would have it, the kids
grew up learned to feed themselves, the DVR came to know us better than we know us, the crabgrass wasn’t going anywhere and we all got back to feeling pretty darn good, thank you very much. What else was there to do but gather this gaggle of girls for a long-overdue weekend celebration of renewed friendship, delicious food, adult beverages, some smart shopping and a little Private Benjamin? We were all on board. Everyone was psyched for the getaway. The only bad part was a last-minute cancellation by one of the girls due to a case of the shingles. WTF? That left a hole in the soul of our plans, but we carried on.
Was it back to Put-in-Bay? Yeah, I don’t think so. There’s no going back. Besides, the place bears little resemblance to its 20th century style and character. That’s my opinion, and after all, this is my blog. Besides, the looks we’d get from the boys these days would be more like ohshitit’smyMOTHER than hey, baby, wanna buy me a drink?
No public showers, bunk beds and urine-soaked village green for us.
|The Lake House. And my car.|
|The sun came out just enough.|
We headed instead for the Lake House, a charming little yellow house in Huron, with Lake Erie as its back yard. I almost said “cottage” because the place is so stinkin’ cute, but this house is so much more: two bedrooms, one bedroom suite and two and-a-half more baths, plus a full kitchen, living room, dining room, bar, laundry facilities, balcony, patio and grill. The WORKS!
We picked an off-peak weekend, the last weekend of September. What to do in Huron other than chill? Not a lot, but that’s OK. When the weather is good a person could golf or go to Cedar Point if that’s what you like. Me? I was happy to sit and stare at the lake, because we had the worst weather that weekend. Cold. Rain. Wind. Fabulous.
The waves were crashing over the rocks and smashing onto our windows. At times I felt like I was inside my neighborhood Buckeye Super Car Wash. My undercarriage never felt so clean. Then on Saturday this crazy gorgeous rainbow appeared. At times it was a double-rainbow, and it lingered and was bright and brilliant and magnificent. Rainbows lose intensity in pictures, but this un-retouched photo gives you a pretty good idea of our enhanced views.
|This would be the rainbow.|
We couldn’t stay inside ALL day (it’s possible that I could have), so we piled in the van and high-tailed it to the local Goodwill and some excellent bargain hunting. I found a 100% cotton, mint condition Liz Clairborne sweater for $4.85. Fits like a dream. I’m wearing it now.
Lunch at the Sand Bar was fun and full of a bunch of old guys watching Ohio State football. I thought I recognized one of them - maybe from 25 years ago at Put-in-Bay. What do I know? Great Lakes beer and fresh perch sandwiches were all I really cared about.
How far I have come.
Evenings were filled with LCR, wine, cards, beer, backgammon, rum and Hairspray, Chicago, Bridesmaids and Private Benjamin. Early in the movie Judy Benjamin just wanted to go to lunch and be normal. I don’t know much about normal, but I do know a bit about lunch, and friends, and a great weekend. Maybe Judy will join us next year along with our other dear friend, minus the shingles.