There are two types of people in this world: those who get their hands wet before they put soap on them, and those who soap up before they even get their hands wet.
I finally got to go up to my cottage last weekend. In fact, I went up two separate times over the weekend. On Friday morning I rode up with my grandparents, and then Courtney came up to visit later that evening. It was great finally being able to see her again. We only stayed until Saturday afternoon, though, since my grandparents and I both needed to be home later that day. I went to a graduation party and played quite a bit of volleyball, as did Clay. I can still vividly picture him screaming, "Christ be with me!" when the ball came hurtling in his direction at one point.
So then Sunday morning my parents and I went back to the cottage, and stayed over until Monday. I had been trying to get in touch with Dombrock about meeting up with us there, but never did, so I wasn't sure what was going to happen with that. It wound up not mattering, as he showed up Monday afternoon with a few friends anyway. That gave way to some harrowing (and mildly illegal) tubing, beginning with Dombrock breaking the tow rope off of one of the tubes (the red one, with the handles that had mostly disintegrated), and ending with the most epic tube switch maneuver in recent history. Dombrock got whipped into my tube, causing his to flip sideways. As he fell, he managed to grab on to the back of my tube. Slowly he pulled himself up so that we were on the same tube. His tube had flipped upside down, so the next time we got whipped over next to it, I flipped it back right-side up. At this point, I managed to slide out from underneath Kevin on to the other tube. All this took place while being whipped around behind a boat in surprisingly rough water (we had the lake to ourselves).
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