2nd Cup of Coffee Adventures at Lake Tippecanoe

First of all, isn't that a great name for a lake? Most people pronounce it "Tippy Canoe," and there is both "Big Lake Tippy" and "Little Tippy." And then there is my group: "Tippy Mamas."

Below are some pics, beginning with "Road Trip" and ending with "Goodbye Lake Tippy."

These are the women with whom I meet every Wednesday night to share our academic research, culinary discoveries, heartwarming family tales and eschatological theories. And why in the world Rupert Everett did that to his face and why Jason did that to Melissa. (When we figure stuff out, we'll let you know.)

We left Friday afternoon for a 2.5 hour drive to Tippe. Upon entering the little town, I was quite humor-fied to see a "gentlemens' club" named, "Stimmelators." Klassy.

I rode up front to make sure I would not get car sick. But little did I know that the driver had baked a zucchini pie which rode on the dash in front of my face all the way there. I knew my plan for controlled eating was going to be tough this weekend, but to have a homemade pie right in your face for 2.5 hours and not be able to eat it? Have mercy.

Our generous hostess anticipated our every need before we arrived and worked her hinder off all weekend to make sure we were comfy. I just about had a heart attack, though when upon my first trip to the bathroom there, a rubber bass fish mounted at ear level began wiggling and singing "Take Me to the River," and "Don't Worry; Be Happy." Nothing like the old "Motion-sensor Toilet Fish Prank" to scare the bleep! out of your guests.

We arrived in the early evening, ate, walked around a little, and visited a place whose name you can't resist: Pie-Eyed Petey's. We began one of our philosophical discussions about the meaning of "pie-eyed" which I thought for sure means that a person's eyes do not move in sync.

When we reached the establishment, we guessed it had to do with the ring around the canine mascot's eye, but being the intrepid blogger that I am, I just Googled it and discovered it's slang for "drunk." I believe this is the first bar I've ever been in in my entire life. That would be "First time in 46 years. Ever." Even the Tippy Mamas had trouble believing that.

But it's true. Because this is the family I grew up in, and we didn't go to bars. That's me in the coral sweater.

I was pretty sure I was in (mainly) a bar when the bikers in black leather came in and a server spilled an entire pitcher of something all over the floor and backs of some bikers near us. That just doesn't happen in bistros.

Please note, however, that I did not drink, nor did I eat, which I'm sort of glad about now because I just read an online review of Pie-Eyed Petey's which says, "The food served has been judged by locals as very good." Well, that's quite underwhelming.

Then we went back to the trailer and watched "Ghost Town," one of my new favorite movies. (Saturday night, we watched "Signs," my all-time favorite contemporary movie.)

Then we went to bed, which I shared with a dear, dear friend, whom I'll call "Leslie," who snored like a roaring waterfall being amplified at a rock concert the entire night.

The next night, I slept on the living room floor.

In the morning, we ate, then we suited up and headed out on the lake. The clouds were ominous, but we headed back before the rain. We played Farkle and talked and ate some more, and then we ate some more. And more.

After we ate some more after that, we headed back out on the water, where we reverted to our 12 year old selves and sang and danced to 70s music. Oh, the hooting when The Hues Corporation's 1974 "Rock the Boat" came up. It was magical.

In the pics you will see "Madwoman" singing and striking a disco pose. She is not drunk; I promise.

The Hat that Almost Drowned is a visor that blew off in the wind and sent my friend Cindy whom I've written about many times here over the back of the boat to save that hat. This impromptu stunt of hers caused me to grab her swimsuit bottom with one hand and ankle with the other and pull with all my might, which did not do her suit any favors.

At another time, my visor blew off the back, too, but our hostess spun that little boat around and Cindy performed her Baywatch stunt again. Cindy is a saver of visors AND a gourmet chocolatier. This time instead of stretching the elastic out on her suit, I took her picture, which is for her eyes only. You're welcome, Cindy.

The last really pulse-quickening action packed moment happened when we were cruising along looking cool and young and slim, when all of a sudden, the boat sputtered and died.

"Uh-oh," said the hostess.

It is not good when the only person who knows a boat from a goat says, "Uh-oh" when you're by yourselves on a windy, choppy lake.

Out of gas.
Out of gas?
Out of gas.

Then we started drifting. Into a field of water lilies or something green and slimy.

How do you say "May Day" in lake lingo? Like this:

"Hey, you guys in the pontoon, can you help us?"

To which they replied by waving and leaving us.

They did turn around, though, when they realized there were six moms seriously stuck, bless their hearts. And then one of them hit on our hostess. She can't help it; she's a fox.

They towed us back to Pie-Eyed Petey's, where we were not the first persons to get gas. Ba-dum-pum.

Anyway, we were still out on that lake as late as we could be Sunday and get home before our husbands realized they are actually better off without us.

And that's how I spent the weekend. How about you?