Man, the crack of dawn is brutal. So bright and fuzzy-looking outside this morning…. well, hazy, but it looks fuzzy to me. Heh.
Going up to the cottage for the weekend. I’ve still got photos I need to post of the cottage for Keiran. We’re actually going up Friday night too, instead of the usual mid-way through Saturday. I’m thrilled. Honestly too, not sarcastically.
When I was little, as soon as it was warm enough, it’d be off to the cottage after school on friday and stay until Sunday after lunch. And it was great. Especially when both my grandparents were still alive. I miss my opa and oma. Opa’d dive off the dock and swim forever and ever and ever, waving, then turning and coming back, splashing me where I sat giggling on the dock. Oma’d always be willing to play “just one more” game of cards or attempt to teach me one more time to knit. Or Opa’d pick me up and toss me back on my bed once I’d slid out, both of us laughing (my mattress on my bed when I was little was too big for the frame – great for bouncing on, but it’d constantly be sliding off the bed)
One of my favourite memories from when I was younger at the cottage was when we re-did the lower roof. I was… maybe 4. Somewhere between 4 and 5 at least. I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, I was young ;) and my opa and my dad were re-shingling the roof (Actually, on after-thought, I think there were a few more people helping, like an uncle or two, but I don’t really remember that part). And I wanted to be a good girl and help. Actually, I just wanted to be where all the action was, to have fun with the guys. I didn’t wanna play in our wading pool on the deck anymore. I wanted to SEE what was going on. So I tried to climb the ladder. My oma would have nothing to do with that. I wasn’t going up there; I’d surely fall and get hurt (ahahah if it was me now, yeah, for sure!)
So, being the handful that I am, I decided that nothing was going to stop me from getting up there. After several unsuccessful attempts at the ladder (with my dad and opa watching from the roof, laughing of course!) I sat down to pout. And plan. I’m devious, I know that. And I formed the perfect plan.
I snuck inside, under the guise that I was going to the washroom. Crept up the stairs and shut the bathroom door, dashing into the room we all shared and climbed onto my bed. My bed was directly under the window that overlooked the roof they were on. A few good bounces on the trampoline-bed didn’t quite get me out the window. I was still too short.So I pried the screen off with my fingertips, sliding it to the side. My sister still slept in a crib at the end of my bed, so I climbed up on the railing of that, stood very very carefully on the edge and leapt – head first – out the window.
I was discovered pretty quickly by the men. My oma was horrified that I got up there after all and wanted me down. But opa and dad let me stay. I was happy a clam up there, sorting nails and “helping” hammer them into the roof.
I miss days like those.