If you ever visit our lakehouse in the summer, you can be sure of a few things. 

Salt & vinegar chips will be eaten with abandon.  The house will be a mess from all the kids running indoors, then outdoors, then back inside, wet bathing suits strewn about, ice pop drips on the floor. 

Although Saturdays are perfection, with no looming threat of a late afternoon road trip back to the city, Sundays are wonderful too. In some ways it’s like Groundhog Day, consistent in its ritual-like events and activities.

As often happens, I wake up to a toddler princess climbing into the bed next to me in bed, still in her costume from the night before. 

My hair is in a tangled mess, and I make no attempt to comb it before heading downstairs to greet the day.  Like Emma, I’m also wearing the same clothes from the night before, having collapsed into bed from exhaustion (or a few too many beers).

It’s often chilly in the mornings, so on top of the previous night’s clothes, I throw on my gigantic wool sweater vest that was woven from Chewbacca’s chest hair. Not kidding, I got it on Ebay.

Here’s what I’d look like if I wore it on a girls’ trip to Vegas.


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