In what was the first of a long string of about-to-be extended weekends, after a workout with sweat not altogether dripping, but laying thick like a shirt, I headed south to meet the bride-to-be and other various past las vegas companions. A bag packed full in bikinis and black dresses, river shoes and sequin fanny pack, bottles of wine and hand-stitched lingerie, we transferred our goods to the Welling van, four blondes and a cooler of beer and fireball spread out across the mass of it, comfortable on the curling highway. Sipping thin beer from the lip of the van-back as the sun baked lines into our backs. Telling stories about who we used to be. On rock. In bat caves. In all the secret spaces that go dark with allure and light with the safety of van secrecy.
Driving past Leavenworth and on into Plain we made it to the Black Forest Lodge, this dark-wood-in-a-hug-of-trees cabin, with hot tub and swing set. A 2-minute walk to the river, running thin over green sludge rocks, with the not-quite deteriorating smell of fish. What I assumed was that I would show up, couch-splay and watch the musings with amusement; gain a solid, centered relaxation. That I would start marathon training with booze and femininity, but what actually happened, as soon as I entered the cabin, was smotheringmother role, upon which I had opinions for everything. Let's cook the chicken. Let's ask the neighbor. Let's make sure the glasses are never empty. Let's save this for that and after all of it, I felt the thing I wanted to feel - a solid, centered relaxation - the path of which to get to it changed. The youth in me tiffs at how I went to bed hard & fast every night, how I underdrank, the mothering. But the elderly woman in me understood that I could have both and all and this weekend forefront-sighted & a far-away dream of a fast time.
Our first night - white wine, beans simmering, chicken broiling in its own juice, cups of cut ups, tortillas, chips, half-attempted margaritas, cackling into the dimming night light on a picnic table fit for 9. Sitting around the living room, guessing, underwear, until we all crawled into our beds and bunks, wanting.
The next morning four of us got up early to run, the same trails we did back at our Leavenworth Oktoberfest xc reunion, the dirt in dust clouds around our ankles. Had toasted bagels and costco muffs and mimosas before swim suits and a hot walk to the river where we sat on rocks and cooled our feet.
With reservations for wine tasting we changed into our token tanks and carpooled to Silvara Vineyards. We sat down at a long, large block of wood & tasted through 7 wines over cheese and meat plates and live music. Someone bought us a bottle of the pinot gris which we sipped on the veranda while all the couplings sat in the shade and we burned and browned and moaned. Opting out of more touring, we headed back to the cabin for sandwiches & prefunkdrunk & dressin'.
Once back we had the penis pinata tied to the playground set, another comeback from Leavenworth Oktoberfest xc reunion & a staple of the skills possessed by Cheri & Jessica; flesh-colored, wrinkled & filled. It brought out of us animalistic, tongues out, and other such cute woman parts, all documents to be printed, stashed in a box you loose sight of and deleted from technological memory (possible?). A shirt tied across the eyes, a large stick and the self-turns of a bubbled goof, before, finally, taffies and twix fell from the tip & all of us hesitant, like - where's the kidz?
What was poured? Wines, white, preferable. Moscow Mules. Vodka lemonades. Emptying glasses in bathrooms over curling irons and blowdryers and steam from the shower and shaved legs and bouncy hair and caked faces, adorned. All of us in black, her in white, another token. Done on time, incredible; saving a couple hundred in transfer fees by the saving grace of one DD, and into town where we were just one of many many bachelorette & bachelor parties. Dinner at euro-inspired Sulla Vita on Front St. where we shared meals; the funghi with mushroom houses, gorgonzola, carmelized onions and arugula with red wine. Here, I stopped taking pictures (sadly); practiced presence and communication like a normal, less self-involved person ought. Remember a lot of position-talk, a lot of naked, butt crack, half-eyes and shared bathroom visits, where no I don't really need to go, but I want to look in the mirror at myself.
After dinner we went to the recommended Ducks&Drakes which was perfect. A steep stairwell down into the underground party and outdoor patio. We waltzed to the bar and hot blue shots and hot pink shots and all those bad-colored shots that spring to your memory the next morning as you cottonmouth think why the hell did I drink that? Oh yes, peer pressure. K paraded around with a cocktail tray of mass vodka shots you couldn't pawn off, but was a total babe. We danced to hip musix, so hip I literally youtubed all the songs when I got back to work to try and see whats up. I do not nae nae correctly. We danced&danced and karaoked. LB & I sat on the rocks and talked. Sat on the bench & talked. Drew forth wakeboarders in half-stance balance poses, toting carafes of margarita in the baskets of their townies. We called the ride, which turned out to be the only drama the trip would see. Some local who took the turns into Plain like a drunk, with all the girls swallowing back barf hiccups and yelling for some peace, distilling the peace themselves. I closed my eyes and bit my fingernails. Someone pulling KiKi the weave out of K's hair; a mass of Detroit weave splayed across the cushions, eating breads, falling asleep fast & hard, again. The next morning LB & I got in our obligatory run on the hot pavements leading to Fish Lake. Cleaned the hell out of that home, emptied all the empties: sour proof of our trysts, and with heads in our hands and hugs goodbye drove home in all directions. I mean, our friends have really nice legs and really great asses. In a few weeks, this long-awaited romance will turn paper-certified; two lovely personalities, one incredible Detroit-teacher and one incredible elite runner to marry under the strung lights of their family's property the day before the date my mother brought me into this world.
*Thanks to LB who hosted as MOH
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