September 6, 1999.

Wow. It's been a long time, hasn't it? I was supposed to be back yesterday, but the weekend at the cottage went on and on...

This was the cottage of my rich cousins. I don't tend to be impressed by their wealth, although it is substantive...I'm a little too belligerent & cynical for monetary lust. But this place was amazing. Brand new, all hardwood floors, enormous windows, cathedral ceilings, proper stereo, extensive deck, air conditioning, tonnes of food & drink...the upper floor of the boathouse alone was about as big as the Boy's living space. Everything was in impeccable taste, and meant to say 'you deserve this.' And it made me wish, just for a second, that I had the power to look at tiles & appliances and say "let there be cottage."

But I'm just a goofy English major. It would take more than the lottery to get me there.

Anyway, questions of coveting aside, I found it relaxing to be in a money is no object atmosphere. For one thing, the hospitality is so extreme as to approach fetishism, and you have to reward that kind of attention with unconcern. Cause if you pick at it, everyone's unhappy. Or maybe I'm just looking to be spoiled. A little girl fantasy of being a princess, held over into early adulthood. Didn't you think that your real parents would find you someday?

Sure you did.

Because living like a princess is fun. I learned how to drive a seadoo, despite having it pounded into my head last weekend that they're dangerous machines. I've never been on one of them, and it's an amazing draught of pure power: the lake's nice & big, you can make tight turns at fast speeds, and if you fall off the life jacket will save you. That plus youthful arrogance plus the fact that you can't steer without pumping the gas is a heady little cocktail. I'm told that a guy went full speed into a dock, killing himself & his cousin. I can believe it.

It's raw power. Fun, though.

And the tubing was amazing!! An incredibly battering experience...I'm still stiff as hell. But so much fun to be yanked around the water at high speeds, with only my spasmodically clutching hands keeping me from capsizing. Even falling off doesn't hurt. It's excitement without consequences...the perfect activity for a thrill seeking yet wimpy girl such as myself.

And speaking of wimpy activities, I won every game I played this weekend. That includes 4 games of Jenga (I guess I can go on the championship circuit now), and a foolish game of chess in which the pieces trash talked one another and my king decided to take a nap halfway through. He was replaced by a snotty kleenex just long enough for my opponent (the Boy) to forget that there was supposed to be a piece there. When kleenex took rook...that was the psychological turning point, I think.

on the ride up:

me: I'm thinking of getting another cartilage piercing. Would you love me more with another earring?
the boy: Yes, I think so.
me: But there would be less of me to love.
the boy: My love for you has never been based on volume.