...at least for now, and probably forever.
After taking time to shower of dust and perspiration -- it was considerably warmer than the forecasts said it would be, and my winter jacket remained in my closet the whole time -- we were packed on boats and shipped off to our "farewell" dinner...
Which was held at a home that once belonged to Emilio Estevez*, who was boffo in Repo Man, but now belongs to some fool who is planning to tear it down and build something more worthy of her bank account. The picture is tilted because I shot from this flimsy little floating dock that was a perfect alcoholic-excess simulator...
Dinner was a "first" for me. I have never had steaks fried in 75 lbs. of molten lard, much less impaled on pitchforks as they cooked. The chef was a jolly showman. Damn, they were delicious, and not at all greasy...
And then, after singing an incomprehensible drinking song** fueled by generous shots of akavit, passing up the chance to make "s'mores," and wonderful palaver having nothing at all to do with work, we took one last lingering look at Whitefish Lake...
And then it was time to get some sleep and make the long journey home.
And here I am.
* It was said by the locals that this log house was the place where Emilio bopped Paula Abdul for the first time, before she got her TV gig and went goofy. Can't imagine anyone razing a pad with so distinguished a history....
** And here it is:
Helan går, sjung “hoppfaddirallanlallanlej”
helan går, sjung “hoppfadirallanlej”
Den som inte helan tar
han heller inte halvan får
*klunk* *klunk* *klunk* (which is where one drinks)
I first "learned" it back in the days (maybe 18 years ago) when I was happy and could consume vast quantities of akavit without achieving a state of total imbecility..
1 hour ago