Therapy

Well, I'm still unemployed, which is not surprising considering I haven't applied to a single job, yet. I did update my resume, at the very least. It looks more like an entry to a contest to see who can fit the most words on a single page than a list of my employment qualifications. In theory that's a good thing, and should go well if I actually start applying. I've poked around a little and I can't find another job description that looks like it was written for me. Its disheartening. So I went on vacation. REAL Vacation.

Ok, so when Belinda Carlisle sings about Heaven being A Place On Earth, she's actually talking about my dad's cabin on Manitoulin Island in Ontario. I know what you're thinking - "Seriously? Canada? Canadian Islands? I hope you were smoking a lot of something good..." but I wasn't smoking anything at all, not even the fish we would have caught had we gotten the fishing boat out of storage. I just love this place.

My Grandfather got in on this property back in the 50s sometime, and the group of owners built a little cabin. That cabin is now the real cabin's "yacht club." We call it the Lasata Lodge, built in 1964. Its a charming little, exceptionally rustic, cozy, unheated wooden house on a crystal blue freshwater bay. It hasn't been updated much except for furnishings and kitchenwares since then. There is no internet, one phone with a 3 foot cord, and no TV.
I haven't been since before high school. Not even the year that my Grandfather died and my dad took his ashes up to their final resting place. Some of that is for good reason, but some is just me being terribly lame and not wanting to leave civilization or wanting to make the 18 hour drive (from anywhere). My sister was up earlier in the summer (when it was still warm enough to swim) waiting on my Grandmother, who hadn't been in even longer, hand and foot, so she could enjoy her late husband's home away from home before she gets too old to make the trip. For this reason, she will probably inherit everything, and I will be left a hate letter because I was still working then, and couldn't take that much consecutive time off.

I took my dear boy with me, convinced my father to take a few days off work (since he's so far out in the middle of nowhere that its only an 8 hour drive for him) and had myself a good, happy Re-Lax. The best part? Max was there!! And he is still the cutest, most wonderfully fuzzy dog in the world. He gives hugs. And my dad cooked delicious, entirely homemade meals every day. This might have been my favorite vacation, ever.


There are two things you should note: I brought Oliver. Not because he needed to be there, but because B (my roommate) does not like furry rodent-like creatures and I was afraid he might feel dejected if he was home alone for a week and she might even forget to feed him. He pretty much stayed in his cage the whole time, taunting the poor dog behind his plastic armor. But at least he didn't get depressed. He hated the car ride, though. If he could hold a sledgehammer, he would have hit me with one. While I was driving. Don't ask me where he might get a sledgehammer.
Secondly, we cheated. Paul and I both brought our computers, stocked with video games and sitcom episodes. Kind of contrary to the point of the cabin, but it is 2008, after all. And it was the perfect opportunity to get my dad as addicted to 30Rock as I am. It was too cold to swim, and the weather was miserable for the first two days, but we did break the canoe out one day and fight the wind for 2 hours on the bay. Dad also managed to teach Paul a few new card games. And they dug out the septic tank for repair next spring. Then we finished winterizing, and headed home.
Now, I am sleeping a lot and making sure I like my life plan. I baked a pan of cookies for B last night, but they sucked. The were like little bricks with soft delicious centers. I will probably be moseying across the Charles here shortly and looking for a lab job at MIT and hopefully enrolling part time in the spring.