Torch Lake

The Water Calls

I had never heard of Torch Lake in all my life, despite its unique beauty, until my boyfriend introduced me to it. He's been going there for vacation his entire life! Lucky duck. It's a hidden gem of America. My boyfriend taught me that it's naming comes from the Native Americans, who would use torches at night to lure in fish and then stab them with a spear. The entire lake would be lit along the edge by soft flames. I wish I could go back in time and see that for myself. Now, the lake is lit up by awful, suburban light polution. People's back decks and oversized mcmansion windows scream at your eyes brighter than the sun. Still, the lake remains beautiful, with a gradient of sea green to deep blue.

Me and my boyfriend walked all the way to this little town I forget the name of. He snapped the pic! It's a good view of how blue the water is. It looks like the carribean sea, don't it? Breathtaking! And the best part? It's warm water. Especially as the day goes on. It just gets warmer and warmer. Y'know what that means? Night swim!!! On our last night we did it--we were the only ones who did. It was so nice. We didn't swim out far as it's a little dangerous due to potential boat traffic, but there weren't any on the water that late anyway. It was a blast. We had a big fire going to dry off once we got out. I was thrilled.

I love water. I love to swim. If I could've I would've gone into swimming as a sport. Alas, where I'm from that doesn't exist. So I just watched Free! and swam circles in my Mom's pool. I taught myself to do almost all the different strokes. The only one I couold never get down right was the butterfly. I can backstroke forever. Freestyle (the crawl) really wears me out, but it's my favorite to do. Breaststroke is easy, but I think it tears my hernia a little--I mean to get that sewn up soon.

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me . . . - Moana

The water calls me. On the first night it beckoned me to come and sit on the doc by myself. I did. I was feeling a little manic but I was okay. I may have disturbed my boyfriend's family a bit (we were all huddled in a guesthouse), and I'm sorry for that. Still, I went to the water in the early morning, as I couldn't sleep. I sat on the dock and closed my eyes, letting the waves consume my mind. Meditation. I wasn't there long enough to hear the Spirit of the Lake--but I knew she was there.

I'm a Weirdo, But I Can Make a Damn Good Maitai

So, I'm awkward as fuck around new people, and nearly everyone there was new to me. It was my boyfriend's extended family. I have hunch there's a long line of untreated AHDH and autism in his family, much like my own. So, everyone was a little awkward and I didn't help. When I meet new people, I tend to observe them first--then talk. Of course that's not the socially acceptable way to behave around new people. It just makes them feel judged. I'm learning not to do that, to just be myself more, because the more I opened up the more everyone else did to.

Wanna know a trick to opening everyone up? A damn good maitai. I plotted and schemed. There was already liquor there, but no one was drinkning it because no one knew how to make anything out of it. Well, I used to bartend and my favorite part of it was the mixology. So my boyfriend and I made a few different runs to the store for cocktail ingredients. We even got cherries, limes, and mint for garnish. It makes a difference, it really does, to have the presentation.

Early on, another girl who was new to the family had muttered to her boyfriend--within my earshot--that me and my boyfriend were "so weird." Yeah. I glared into the fire, not making eye contact, as I probably would've scared her if I did. I've struck fear into the hearts of adult men with my glare before--I try to use it wisely.

However, after a few days of my awesome cocktails, she warmed up to me. She even asked where I was from and what I thought of living in the city. I told her I was very used to rural areas, she seemed to understand me a bit better after that. She and her boyfriend also got to see my art and they really liked it--her boyfriend remarked that Suzu looked like "a human version of Courage the Cowardly Dog." I took that as a huge compliment; I love the work of John R. Dillworth.

In addition to damn good maitais, I came up with an original inspired by the beautiful gradient of the lake. It was a strong one. I called it "Torch Lake Lagoon", but my boyfriend kept calling it "The Blue Lagoon". I just rolled with it.

Sadly, I don't have a picture of this one. But trust me, it went like hotcakes! My boyfriend kept asking for more (I slowly weakened it so he didn't die in the morning), and he told me to write down the recipe. So I did. Here it is! Try it yourself if you're feeling fancy and summerful.

The last drink I made out of the remaining scraps from the Torch Lake Lagoon. It was a Blue Kamikaze Shot. I just made it up but had to look up if it already had been done. It had. I didn't come up with that name. I don't know what I would've called it anyway.

Social Success

With a few drinks in everyone's system, everyone felt a lot more comfortable. We played liars dice, lots of laughs with that game. We sat by the fire and one of my boyfriends brothers played a little guitar. But it wasn't perfect yet. Each night I took my boyfriend to a private, quiet place and ruminated on the evening. I wanted everyone to have fun and feel comfortable, I was scheming each night about how to make that happen.

The last night, all the young adults went out to eat at a beautiful local restaurant. They had live music which we were sat right by. They had been performing there for decades. A woman and a man. It was lovely. And of course, the food was delicious. We got a coconut shrimp appetizer and it was the best shrimp I'd ever eaten. Hats off to the chefs.

Me and my boyfriend got wine, I drank most of it becuase he was driving. It was good wine. So good, that I sang caraoke on the way to icecream. I tried to show off by singing Let It Go from Frozen, but all it did was make me cry. The lyrics were really resonating in that moment. As I was finally leaving behind the perfect, polite, and quiet version of myself that had been beaten into me. It's not who I am. I love people. I love making people feel comfortable in their own skin. I love being the life of the party. I love to yap and hear what others have to say. I love being myself.

I Cired of Joy

By the time it had all come to pass, and everyone had warmed up to each other, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I did it. I made everyone happy. They all had a great time because I forced it to be a great time, even if it was going to kill me. I did it. I saved the vacation. I made memories that will last forever.

The Impossible Dream

I found this in an antique shop. It's a Man of La Mancha music box that plays The Impossible Dream and features Don Quixote on his noble steed. I found this to be a sign. A beautiful sign from a beautiful place. Looking a bit online, it appears to be from the 1960's and was made in Japan. So this music box came out not to long after the original stage play. It appears to have originally featured a spear as well. I can see the hole that once held it.

In a small way that week, I achieved an impossible dream just like Don Quixote. I was nuts, off my rocker as usual, but I also brought everyone closer. I showed them my heart, and that encouraged them to show their own. Just like the fable of Man of La Mancha. This music box was no coincidence--then again--that's exactly what it was.

coincidence /kō-ĭn′sĭ-dəns, -dĕns″/
noun
1. : the act or condition of coinciding : correspondence
2. : the occurrence of events that happen at the same time by accident but seem to have some connection