It may say September first on the calendar but I declare September to be the new August. I am determined to remain in a state of denial until the snow falls. I will wear white pants after labour day. I will wear open toe shoes until my toes turn blue. I will continue to paint my nails cheery bright colours. I will eat my weight in peaches. I will have friends over for a barbeque and game of croquet even if we are wrapped in blankets and our trembling fingers can’t grip the mallets. I will make watermelon rind preserve, even though I’m not a huge fan of watermelon or preserves for that matter, I will make it anyway because it sounds summery. I will be so busy having barbeques, wearing summer frocks and making watermelon preserve that i will not notice the leaves changing colour or the days getting shorter.

It is summer it is summer it is summer.

I saw these wonderful cards by Egg Press on the Creature Comforts blog and began to swoon.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the Sasquatch card. I’m a fan of all his incarnations, whether as Sasquatch, Big Foot or Yeti.

Big Foot seems to be a creature that peaked in the seventies. Like the Farrah Fawcett hairdo, powder blue tuxedoes and disco, Big Foot was hot. I remember an episode of The Six Million Dollar Man that starred Big Foot as Steve Austin’s nemesis and later reformed ally. There were often reports of Big Foot sightings and grainy photographs of a hulking creature lurching through the woods. I found it thrilling. For a while Sasquatch reigned supreme and then sadly, he seemed to fade into obscurity. Perhaps Big Foot was too common place, not flashy enough, too passe.

Lately I have been hopeful about a Big Foot revival. With the hairy mountain-man look that is the new hipster moniker, there are a lot of Sasquatch-esque guys in skinny pants lurking about these days. What was old is new again and maybe back to the land trendiness will herald a return of Big Foot.

I think Big Foot and I would be friends.  Perhaps I feel an affinity for him because I too have generously endowed feet and happen to be on the hirsute side. One of my many fears is of being stranded on a desert island without a razor or tweezers.  I would look like a menacing female Sasquatch lumbering about the sand dunes and would be mistakenly shot by my rescuers. I think Big Foot and I would understand each other and enjoy hanging out, but we would give each other space when we needed it. Like Big Foot, I am a solitary creature. I would like to spend more time in the forest, ambling around in unabashed hairiness, enjoying nature and quiet, leaving worries of fashion, finances and accomplishments to the smooth skinned urbanites.

Naturally I ordered a stack of the Sasquatch cards.

The Six Million Dollar Man Bigfoot part 5

I have been feeling a little burnt out recently. Every now and then I get a nagging feeling that I need to get out of my current career and find something new. This brings on a flood of angst regarding the choices I’ve made, my future and wondering what my next step should be. It is easy to get overwhelmed. I am not a dive right in kind of gal. I tend to ruminate, avoid, ruminate, procrastinate, ruminate some more and then freak out. I was at the freak out stage this week. I had a low lying jittery feeling of anxiety, followed by pacing, staring into space and a few bouts of tears.

I went to visit my girlfriend and her lovely apricot coloured dog. We ate Havarti and avocado sandwiches, drank coffee and just hung out. Things felt a lot better when I ambled back home.

Yesterday The Sweetie and I had made plans to go out for a special dinner. As the day progressed I started feeling tired but was resolute that I would muster up the energy to don some high heels, bright lipstick and have a big night. When it was time to venture out we looked at each other and admitted that we were pooped. We threw on flip flops and strolled around the block to pick up burritos. As we sat with our burritos catching up on True Blood episodes we clinked glasses and exclaimed,“It’s a party!”

It’s the simple things that matter the most and give me comfort. I am no closer to figuring out what I am going to do with my life or what the future holds, but I have dear friends that feed me sandwiches, it’s still summer and I have a Sweetie who knows how to appreciate a night of take out. When I finally come up for air after burying my head in the sand, things are still looking pretty good.

I am currently rehydrating after a boozy cousin’s cottage weekend. This was the third year that my cousin generously opened up her cottage to extended family for the long weekend. There were many bottles of wine, margaritas and slurred songs around the campfire. There were organized games including a high stakes game of capture the flag played around a wood chipper for an extra element of danger. The games usually end in controversy, ours being a family of type-A, competitive overachievers.

The first year I was apprehensive about a cousin’s weekend. I am the opposite of a type-A and far from an overachiever. Games involving teams and competition stress me out. I do everything in my power to avoid being seen in a bathing suit unless it is by strangers I will never meet again. I worry that I will revert back to my shy childhood self, complete with coke bottle glasses and dorky outfits.  Somehow though, through the skinny dipping, the booze and the lounging I managed to carve out my own place. I realized that I love these people who are all quirky, sweet and fun in their own way.

The weekend provided many opportunities for relentless teasing and future blackmail. My glamorous urban cousin nearly drowned herself and those within her splashing vicinity during a midnight swim. A few of us were having a starlit skinny dip when there was a blood curdling scream.

“Oh my God! What the hell is that?” she screamed.

She practically levitated from the lake in her haste to get away from whatever was attacking her.

From the horror in her voice I expected a bull shark (known to swim in fresh water, although never in Ontario) or at least a snapping turtle. It turns out is was The Sweetie, serenely floating on his back.

“Good God”, she panted as she tried to recover, ” Why are you so stealth? I thought you were a loon!”

Typically, a loon on a lake does not invoke shrieks of terror. It feels like a lucky thing to spot one, akin to seeing a peaceful deer in a meadow. Of course, as I teased her mercilessly I didn’t admit that I was nervous about going kayaking because I was afraid that spiders might crawl out of the kayak while I was in the middle of the lake. I would certainly drown in my desperation to get away from them. My squeamishness towards insects also resulted in attacking two relatives with bug spray that I was wielding like a can of mace. Enjoying the wilderness does not come without casualties.

Crazed loon attacks and deadly spiders aside, there is something magical and quintessentially Canadian about the cottage experience. It is in our collective blood. Seeing the water as still as glass early in the morning, plunging into a cold lake and sipping beer on a dock embodies a Canadian summer in all its glory. It felt extra special to share the experience with family members and feel truly connected. It is true that you can’t choose your family. Because families usually have a few duds we often create a tribe of our own. I’m lucky that my tribe includes family and I feel stronger for it.

It was a day of dusting and getting groceries and sorting through piles of papers. Chores. Chores are a bore and I felt like my precious day off was shot to hell. I admit that I was a tad bitter and pouty.

Even though the sun was already setting  The Sweetie and I went for a bike ride by the lakeshore. The breeze was refreshing on my face and I felt silent and weightless, gliding along the waterfront path. I was free and whole and happy. I felt myself grinning. I wasn’t grossed out by the goose poo everywhere and felt like I was fully embracing summer. All of the sudden my boring day of chores became something beautiful.

Just like that.

The temperatures are soaring up to the high thirties today and with the humidex it is going to feel like it is in the high forties. That is a bit much, even for a heat lover like me. I expect people are going to spontaneously burst into flames on the street. Even if I end up as a sizzling smouldering heap of ashes on the sidewalk I will still take the heat over windchill any day.

To stay cool I will be making frozen fudge pops that I found on Epicurious. I may venture out to the video store later and rent The Thing. I’ll eat frozen treats and watch some carnage in the Antarctic, relieved that I am not freezing in some outpost, paranoid and tormented by an alien being.