Candles in the Fridge

The brochure arrived just in time. For the past month I'd been having a meaningful relationship with wallpaper and paint. The time had come, when either the dog, one of the four kinds or myself would be pasted to the wall.

Here was my answer, "authentic log cabins, located in virgin pine forest, appeals to those who love the smell of pine and the sounds of a rushing trout stream. Chilly nights are taken care of by a crackling fire in the fireplace."

Long to be remembered, was this statement by the owner: "Many times we're booked a year or two in advance and someone asks me to recommend another place." Here the owner could have pleaded the 5th but no-o-o; he continues. "I have to say, I honestly know of no other place like this one." We all know statements like this can go either way. Well...at least "now" we do.

After being fortunate to get a reservation at this late date (one month ahead), we were off; four kids, Gram, one large Belgian sheepdog and myself. Six hours later and X number of pit stops later, with a dragging muffler from an earlier bout with a gas station island (the island won) we limped in at dusk.

Somehow we managed to clear the obstacle course that had been set up for us - a two-inch wide path, which the station wagon had to maneuver through, by sideswiping bushes, tree trunks, boulders and other natural elements.

Armed with an area map, we passed the various cute-sounding cabins- "Owl's Nest", "Bears Den", etc. We also passed the "children's playground", which consisted of one rusty teeter-totter. At last it was in sight - "Leopards Lodge - our home for the next seven days.

Surely you've heard of rustic. How about early crude? The spaces between the "authentic logs" would allow a baby elephant to jump through. Harmless spiders crawled over the dishes. The "new added on shower room" was something right out of Journal De Primitive (Outhouse Monthly).

Equilibrium failed as we made an inspection of the "rooms". We soon came to realize that the pitch of the floors would induce even Moby Dick to retch.

Famine set in as we went about trying to whip a meal together. Just as we were ready to dig in, we were faced with a power failure. Never mind we'd dine by candles...the ones in the fridge marked "For Emergency Use Only". Something smelled foul here (the situation, not the food ... yet.)

Have you ever had six people using a toilet that didn't know the meaning of flush? The real battle was yet to come.

Visitors vs. Moths, for the blankets, which were desperately needed, as the crackling fire refused to crackle. We huddled together and prayed for daylight. Local headlines later confirmed what we guessed - "All records are broken, coldest night ever in August!"

To those accustomed to rising at the crack of "noon", dawn never looked so good! Needing nourishment in our weakened condition, the food hunt was on. Breakfast didn't satisfy the hearty "chuck wagon" appetites, brought along in anticipation of outdoor cooking. However, a quick check of the grill, revealed it had seen neither chuck nor wagon recently. But Rusty Jones could have made a killing here.

Without a spoken word, the plan was clear. Snarls abounded and tempers flared as we began packing a week's supply of food, clothing for six and Alpo for one. We now had #1 A check to stop and #2 a story to contrive to cover the one I'd been telling for weeks...something about me in the lounge chair under the pines, with my children doing the cooking on our perfect vacation.