Cottages and Long Holiday Weekends

It’s no secret that I had a hard time getting through the first two 4^th of July holiday weekends after Don died. I was bored, lonely and envious of people on Facebook who rode off at sunset to see the fireworks and who got mustard stains on their sandals from eating hotdogs at the beach. Woo was me. I could hardly stand myself. I used to say the 4^th was my favorite holiday because I loved the small town parades and spending time at either my folks’ cottage or in later years at Don’s brother and sister-in-law’s wheelchair friendly cottage. We were never without an invitation for a red, white and blue themed potluck and opportunities to swap stories around a warm circle of family. Those parties have dwindled out in recent years as the older generation passed on and cottages got sold. Still, I miss my favorite holiday traditions and I didn’t look forward to spending another long weekend with just my memories and the dog to keep me company. He's shallow and his storytelling abilities suck but don't tell him, he thinks he's perfect.

Enter The Plan: 2014. The plan involved diving into a project that would take up a lot of time. This 4^th of July that project was to chalk paint a doll bed and table and chairs set that I used to play with when I was a little girl. The bed will get used for a dog bed for Levi and the table and chairs will go at the end of my dining room in place of a 1940’s coin-operated motel radio/bed stand that I’ve got up for sale. I’ve never liked the radio, as quirky and fun to talk about as it is. It was Don’s and it’s time to let go and claim a bit more of the house as my own. What a project! My childhood furniture had been down in the basement and it grew mole after my flood last year. So I had to scrub it down with bleach water one day then I painted it with a sealer the next day, and after that I spent time two days in row painting them with two different colors of chalk paint. A chalk paint project isn’t done when the paint dries. Next comes the distressing and waxing to give the pieces that “shabby chic” aged look. The Plain worked. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself, imagining the whole world was off having fun in the sun.

But I did manage to get some sunshine on my head and water on my feet recently. Three second cousins I used to babysit in my teen years, their mother, my oldest niece and my brother got together for an afternoon at the cottage where we all have special memories attached. It used to belong to my parents and when my dad died five months before my husband’s stroke, my niece bought the cottage then she presented my brother and me each with a key so we can come and go as we like. It’s not wheelchair friendly and since the ‘key ceremony’ I hadn’t had many opportunities to use the cottage so I christened my use of the place this week with my little cousins’ party. We had so much fun bringing my parents back to life through conversation and photos and recreating our many boat rides down the channel aka the jungle back in the old days. I even served the homemade peanut butter cookies and lemonade that I remember fondly from my youth. My mom and dad were like grandparents to my cousins---two sets of twins---so they were at our house and cottage often. I was also their 4-H leader and their “adult” supervisor on camping trips when I was in college. (No, I didn't teach Animal Husbandry or how to make blue-ribbon winning pies. I was teaching the fine art of apron and moo-moo making.)

I stopped by to see my sister-in-law on the forth. She’s ten years older than me and used to own the wheelchair friendly cottage where I took part in many holiday potlucks. She jokingly calls me Mother Superior because she thinks I give such sage advice when we get to gossiping about her family. I wish she would have asked me for advice before she sold the cottage. I would have told her, “No, F-ing way should you do that! It will scatter the family!” But she didn't ask and maybe that's a good thing because she would have died of shock to hear the F word coming out of me, her "wise nun" who always knows the right things to say. (Don't I have her fooled.) Like I said, I miss the old traditions---families on the 4th, food of all descriptions, the fireworks, the boat parades and even the mosquitoes because they liked me best. But life changes and we must do the same. Roll with the punches. Adapt. Keep a stiff upper lip. Can you think of any other platitudes I left out?  So, all long holiday weekends from now on will be project zones here on Widowhood Lane. If I remember. I'm old and I might forget. ©
 

After the first coat of soft blue, the next coat was a cool gray.

The finished dog bed. Levi needs to do a better job making it.