Friday, September 16, 2011

Reckless Abandon

Last weekend, simply stated, was out of control. Ten of my closest friends from all walks of life - High School, College, Post College, Present-day - descended upon our cabin for a few blissful days to bask in reckless abandon of the other roles we assume on a daily basis.

Mom. What kids?
Wife. See you in a few days, Honey. You'll manage just fine.
Daughter. Sorry Moms, this weekend's not for you. Trust me.
Dog walker. Go sniff somebody else's butt for a few days.
Laundress. Personally, I regretted the abandonment of this role for at least a week upon my return home.

All to celebrate friendship, fun, wine, life, dip and wine with each other.

Yes - that is wine squared.

The stars could not have aligned more perfectly. I lounged for three glorious days by myself before they breezed in - plenty of time to pet my liver and persuade him that it'd be all right in a few days. Plenty of time to prepare fifty dips added to the 200 that my friends brought for the weekend noshing. Plenty of time to complete a little goody bag for each of my friends - complete with hand painted wine glasses that look adorable filled with a crisp Chardonnay or a tasty Cab.
And plenty of time to set the scene in the backyard for some fabulous fall fun for my very well behaved girlfriends. Doesn't this look like the most perfect setting for afternoon tea and crumpets?
There were several new additions to Girls Weekend this year, and I marveled at my anomalous worlds and how they harmoniously collided. Just hours away, Michele called me with the revelation that our high school friend Kim and Michele's friend Mendy were inseparable in college.  They even attended each other's weddings. And I unknowingly reunited them after a 15 year hiatus. Rock on.
Upon meeting and chatting each other up, Kim and Carrie realized that their two boys will be playing each other in soccer the following weekend in Indianapolis. Whoop whoop! New friends!
After listening to the remarkable and impressive vocabulary of Angie (aka Jackie-O), Teri determined that she hasn't yet heard it all, despite spending ten years with policemen. Not even close. Don't let Jackie-O's appearance mislead you. Despite her look of elegance and refinement, she could make a sailor blush. And she's known to have difficulty with stairs when wearing masks.

My Hollie Ho.  Who joined me at University of Illinois 20 years ago. She rallied late in August, purchasing a plane ticket within 24 hours of being invited and woke up at an obscene hour to arrive early on Day One in order to act like a monkey with us this year. I could not stop staring at this girl all weekend and was beyond thrilled to be reunited.

Hollie and Kim walked onto my deck and scared the bejeezus out of me resulting in my squealing like a stuck pig and a little dribble.  I wasn't the only one to have that issue over the weekend. Shannon realized with great hilarity that a bottle must first be uncorked before wine will flow from the opening. It was simply too much for her delicate bladder to handle. Success.

Some of us hiked each morning in order to, if I remember correctly, "Experience a Zen moment before returning to stupidity in the afternoon."

The first morning found us at Fallison Lake Trail. One of my favorites.

Hats and glasses and ponytails proved helpful for all.
OK girls. Time to 'fess up. How many of those glasses were dumped based on the previous night's overindulgence?

Morning Two brought us to Bond Falls in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan - another one of my most cherished venues to drink in Northwoods beauty and relax overworked livers.

 Later some napped to prepare for the imminent idiocy.

While a fresh carload of newbies got us back on track with the day's priorities.
Daytime temperatures soared above 75 degrees faithfully every day, and my little lovely pontoon boat obliged us with a workout she's never before seen. She toted us all around the chain, paused for some stone pictures and landed us at the beach for story telling. Not only did we tell stories, we made new ones: squawking at passersby, flirting with fishermen (so what if they are 90 years old?), belting out tunes at the top of our lungs, dancing Elaine Benes style and plenty of other lewd and harmless acts that I dare not report on my PG-rated blog.

Despite what you may see, this is not an upside-down photo of the landscape. This is the reflection in the water of some treetops.
 No joke - our weather was picture perfect. For a lot of laughs...
...and plenty of smiles.

 Why is it so fun to act like we are 18 again?
Why do we ignore personal space requirements after a few cocktails?
Why does it take reckless abandonment to let it all hang out?
Why do we not do this more often?
Recently I talked this over with Mr. Musky. That no matter how much I love him to the depths of my soul, and although I crave spending time with him talking and laughing and loving life, he will never be capable of fulfilling a most basic and fundamental need that I require until the day I die... spend time with my girlfriends.  You all rock.

And to the mystery friend who left this in my car console, you rock too.