The Bears Den (A Trip to the Catskills)

Fritz and I took off last weekend to go to a cabin in the Catskills with his sister, Eber, and her boyfriend, Jake.

View from our cabin deck

It was just the perfect weekend away.

Required jumping on train tracks photo.

Eber’s hair is a thing of great beauty here.

We had piles of droewors and biltong (South African preserved meats, kinda like beef jerky but 23923x better), too many bottles of wine (well, is there such a thing?), perfect weather, scenery like you wouldn’t believe, and great company.

Brother and sister.

The stars aligned to make this a great weekend away, which was so needed now that we are 5/12ths of the way into Fritz’s prosthodontics residency (not that I’m counting) (I’m totally counting–there’s one year, 251 days, 19 hours, and 33 minutes left as of right now).

Model McModelson

This is totally inappropriate to write on my blog that my entire family reads, but isn’t it such a relief when your family members choose someone great to bring into the family?  It’s just so awkward and terrible when you don’t like the boyfriend/girlfriend, and Jake has been around for a few years now so we are pretty confident that he’s the bomb dig (also, it’s nice to have another American around!).

So Shakespearean…or something.

Also, Eber had never carved pumpkins before, and after I gave her a few tips (okay, actually just poured a glass of wine), she blew my basic cat pumpkin out of the water by carving layers of bark and using pumpkin guts to her advantage in her weeping willow pumpkin.  And this is all using the most primitive of carving tools.

Creepy SO faces are an essential part of the total package.

Anyway, we snuggled under blankets on the couch watching movies, roasted marshmallows and smoked cigars in front of a fire, went on a hike up a (small) mountain, and visited a small (teeny, tiny) harvest festival.  We chatted and caught up and bantered back and forth all weekend.  Oh, and Eber and Jake rented a Mustang convertible to drive up from NYC, so we drove around a little with the top down, too.

He thinks it’s hysterical to make it look like I’m pregnant in pictures (I’m not).

I miss it already.

But maybe we can do it all again in one year, 251 days, 19 hours, and 22 minutes?