Je suis une artiste incroyable.

That's right. I painted this rock. Patrons, feel free to come calling. Personally, I think its simplism conveys a sort of 5th grade naivete that's refreshing in such troubled times. And just look at the brushstrokes. Clearly, a powerful statement.

And the introduction to my post(s) about my big weekend at the Finger Lakes. Thursday afternoon, Cooper and I left Baltimore with our friend Bill in tow and made the 5-hour trek across Pennsylvania to the southern part of upstate NY, and our friend Alicia's family's lake house.

The drive itself has its moments - it definitely feels like a road trip when you pass Reptileland. Not to mention the "adults only" video stores that pop up every 10 miles throughout the entire state of Pennsylvania. They're all the same, too, with lovely covered windows and signs that say things like, "private booths" and "trucks welcome." Fortunately, we didn't actually see anyone entering or (worse) leaving any of these fine establishments. I can only imagine.

My drive was particularly eventful, as I was in the backseat behind a driving Cooper and a drinking Bill (who's FABULOUS wife was, unfortunately, not able to join us). The two of them snuggled, fought and danced their way all the way to New York. I've never seen such a stellar "Dancing Queen" in the front seat of a car. Seriously.

By the time we got to the house, it was late, but we kicked things off with a bottle of Boone's Farm and a little swim (well, Cooper swam anyway). That pretty much sums up the whole weekend: lots of watersports, drinking, and relaxation.

And laughing. The group of people at the house were such a group of characters that we really had to laugh the whole time (I know that "characters" sounds hokey, but that's really what they are). Alicia is like Julie the Cruise Director/Camper of the Week (coed, not just girls) on speed, constantly organizing or swimming or taking pictures. But never sitting. And her husband Mike doesn't seem to sit, either. He spent the whole weekend fixing things. Then there were Amy and Brian: she's a mostly reserved but sporadically foul-mouthed schoolteacher who is extremely partial to sweets and he's a super-conservative guy who gets more genuinely excited about trying new things than anyone I've ever met.

Then, of course, Cooper, Bill and me. And on Sunday, we saw Alicia's dad, who is such a character I can't believe he's not immortalized in a short story somewhere. He's a big, friendly, storytelling retired Irish cop who drinks Beast Light and loves pop-rap (especially 50 Cent). AND he went to high school with Tommy Hilfiger.

At any rate, if I told all the stupid little stories from the weekend, they'd probably come out boring. Most of our time was actually spent in deep discussion of Harry Potter and Laguna Beach, much like the contents of this blog. But I will share some pictures from our wine-tasting excursion, hanging out at the house, and our sunset booze cruise.

And say that our drive back home, past Reptileland and shops carrying all the dirty movies we could ever wish for, was more than a little sad. It was a good time.