So, last we heard, the Voyager was soaked in the Serengeti, and about to be fried by lightening, eaten for breakfast, or carried off in a flood. Did she survive? With her limbs and husband* intact? Oh, the suspense.
Sorry, you will have to hang on a cliff for a while. We are not going back to Africa today. Yes, I realise the drama of this cliffhanger is muted somewhat by the fact this blog is being written. Work with me. Feign fear for our soggy heroine.
We are going to travel somewhere else today: A lake, about 100 kilometres east of Vancouver. Where we went for the weekend. And hallelujah, the sun came out. For the first time in weeks. Don't believe me? Look:
B's parents, my in-laws*, have a cozy log cabin at the lake. My in-laws are lovely people, and they would still be dear to me if they owned no cabin on a lake. But it rocks that they do! And B and I can go whenever we want. We can even bring our unruly dogs. I told you they were lovely. My in-laws that is.
You are likely thinking: "How nice, a weekend spent reading by the fire, walking on the lakeshore with the dogs, playing a game of cribbage, napping." Oh no, not us. We do our familial duty and work hard while there, toiling away at chopping wood, repairing, gardening, cleaning, grinding flour, putting up preserves...and that's all in the first hour.
We even put the dogs to work, harnessing them up to pull thousand-kilogram logs off the beach, which they have to turn into firewood. With their teeth.
It's tough. Oh yes.
* I use the terms "husband" and "in-laws" loosely, because B and I are not actually, legally, hitched. Does that make B's parents my out-laws? And B my parent's sin-in-law?