Forgive not only my lateness, but the crummy pictures as well.
Blame it on the wine, I spent the week in BC soaking in some form of alcohol when we weren’t at the beach.
True story. There’s a post coming on some of the wines I drank that week. What, you think I wouldn’t take pictures? Tsk tsk, you mustn’t know me that well.
A luck, fate or chance would have it, we were at the campground the same time as two more couples that we know from waay back.
Like high school waaaaaay back. Old skool, baby. Lynn attended high school with us briefly and Lisa, Erin, Sheldon and I all graduated together.
The other people at the campground thought we were having a reunion.
That’s next year when we all turn 35. Plans are a’ concoctin’ as we speak.
So we arranged to have a dinner together one night, one night where we could all sit and relax-especially Sheldon and Erin who own Camp Beverly Hills– and chat, drink and eat with the occasional “where’s my child?” or “pass me the wine.”
This is a shot of everyone but me making dinner. That’s the thing, sometimes when you are such a prolific cook, you like to just sit back and let someone else do it. Or maybe that’s just lazy me.
Their kitchen is going to be amazing when they are done, they have built this beautiful, immense log house that is incredible to see.
Dang it, I have so few pictures of everyone. This is Lisa.
She’s a newlywed, brand spankin’ new of about a week in this picture.
There were lots and lots and lots of sex jokes and teasing.
Seriously. When we couldn’t rouse them from their cabin one night, you should have heard us.
You just get more perverted in your 30’s, people.
Ah here we go, a better picture of the wild love animals newlyweds:
We thought we were going to have to leave a note on their cabin saying that this was a family campground.
With friends like us, who needs enemies?
I cannot for the life of me remember what Erin called this delicious dish below, but it’s a salsa with cabbage in it, to sum up.
Delicious and she still needs to send me the recipe.
Dinner was followed by some expensive scotchy-scotch for the men, which though expensive, still tasted like gasoline to me.
Sorry Sheldon. It was really smooth tasting gasoline, though!
All in all it was a lovely evening and so amazing that we all ended up in the same small lake in BC the same week. Next year, for those of you who are reading this and are familiar with our little circle of turning 35’s, we are all heading there for a week. No excuses.
I will hunt you down like Mantracker.