Treehouse Perfection

Arboral adventure awaits

Thing is – when it comes to buckets and lists thereof, I seem to have one that is larger than most sane individuals, so its a full-time job sometimes just to try and keep up with all the nonsense my imagination seems intent on cramming in there.  As I continued to digest the sudden shift in my living prospects from sushi and sake to fondue and whatever it is they drink in Switzerland (liquid Toblerone, right?) or maybe – NEWSFLASH – perhaps even Chicago (so deep dish pizza and semi-melted snow, as far as I can gather), I figured I might as well check another one off the list while i was at it.

So, rather than a quiet night of reflective solitude and contemplative musings on 2013 in all its shitty glory, instead it was officially a “Bugger That – lets PARTY!” evening.  Yes, for One Night and One Night Only, me, Lori and American Mom, Cheri, were going to rock the (tree) house!   Now, very very conveniently, our target destination was brilliantly close by – in a town called Burlingame, just past SFO airport only 20mins away – a drive I am very familiar with and could do in my sleep.  And probably have done.

Is this it?  Is this where we get our kicks?

Lori and Mom swung by to come pick me up en route and, after a short detour to Safeway to buy fruit and chocolate for the CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN THAT SANTA GAVE ME FOR CHRISTMAS (bloody love Santa), we arrived bang on check-in time at 4pm.  The directions had been very thorough – both for getting to the place, parking up and finding the treehouse.  We found our parking spot under the Route 66 sign no problem, and then looked across the road and up, to catch our first glimpse of the treehouse.

One ridiculously adorable looking garage. Come on, now.

We wasted no time getting settled in.  Bringing all our stuff up (its amazing how much crap you “need” for one night in a treehouse), we got to the important business of setting up the bar and getting some snacks going.  I’d rearranged the terrace and managed to cram three chairs into a tiny space and, with the festive lights strung around the treehouse, plus the candles in the hurricane lamps, it was a fabulous setting.  Here are some pics, in chronological order of the volume of white wine consumed.

Undercarriage

The perfect place to sit, ponder and eat pre-cut cheese.

The swing was alarmingly creaky as I sat on it. I think it might have been the sound of the  wooden seat screaming.

American Mom cutting the cheese (Brit blogwatchers – you need to go look up why that is hilariously funny to my American brethren)

Home sweet home for the night.  Compact and bijoux. And already a mess after 5 mins!

The original and best Treetops Bar. You saw it here first.

Snacks in shacks.  As the night drew in, everything just got more and more adorable. (disclaimer: that could also have been the gin)

Best mate and Mom

We had an absolute riot.  It was such a fun night, full of laughter, friendship, Christmas pressies (yey!) and one utterly hilarious pizza delivery chick.  Yes – you could actually phone a local pizza place in town and they would come right up to the treehouse to deliver your 10 inch meat feast! (steady) How cool is that?  And – in one of those “only in California” moments, when our delivery girl turned up, climbing the ladders with deft aplomb – pizzas in hand – we invited her to come join us.  And she did!  So there we were, all rather *ahem* cheerful by this stage, listening to this hilarious pizza girl regale us with tales of all the crazy people and situations she’s delivered too.  She was a blast.  Time was a bit wobbly-wobbly timey-wimey by then, so I’m not sure how long exactly she stayed but she stayed for a fair while – “the shop was quiet and you guys seem like fun”.  I think some singing was involved at some stage, but I can’t be 100% certain of that.  Hopefully, we weren’t providing fodder for her next anecdote.

After pizza girl left, it was time to get down to the serious business of Uno.  There is not enough champagne in the known galaxy that can completely squelch (that word again) my competitive streak.  I won.

Twice.

After Uno, it was time to face my most feared nemesis.

It was time for Perfection.

I blame Loopy.  She’d sent me a Facebook link 7 or 8 months ago to remind me of the “game” that had so tortured me in my formative years.  One quick trip to eBay later, and the deal was done.  Please understand this.  If I ever say that I am a “perfectionist” I am not describing the relentless quest for perfection.  No.  I am, instead, describing the indelible scar on my psyche that anyone who has come into contact with the game of Perfection invariably carries.  I am, and always will be, a Perfectionist – and tonight, I had the chance to relive it all again.

And so, in the end, it all came down to this.  If there was a single sound that could capture the essence of your childhood memories (albeit in my case, limited), then this would be it for me.  60 seconds of pant-crapping, nerve-wracking, anxiety provoking freak-out-iness that catapults me back to my 10 year old self, staying in the caravan out back while the guest house is booked up for the summer, trying to avoid the orange-frilled squelchy slugs on those terrifying nighttime trips back to the big house to go to the loo.  (Interestingly, there’s a bucket involved in that story too…. but maybe thats too much detail for you, dear blogwatchers…)

So, yes.  The unparalleled power of a single sound (or song) to roll back the years as if no time at all had passed.  This one was mine.  Well this, and an apple core screaming but thats another story.  Enjoy the video of me totally losing my shit.

Everything a hungover treehouse survivor could possibly need

Even the bathroom was cute.

After a very much needed Cup of Restorative Coffee (Treetops bar had taken somewhat of a pounding the night before and was offline for the foreseeable future for…err… restocking), sitting out on the treehouse terrace (or is it a verandah?), it was time to start to tidy away the evidence of the Perfection Episode, the Uno Smackdown and the Midnight Lullaby Down The Steep Steep Stairs.  Alas, the “Decorate Your Own Gingerbread Men” remained sadly naked and were packed away for Another Day (that day was actually today, when I ate the chocolate M&M buttons and binned the rest – sorry GB man).  Check-out time was midday, so enough time to pack up, take some final pictures and then wend our way home.  

Arty-stuff, artfully arranged in an artful manner.

Daylight and all remains unscathed by man  or beast or Party Pizza Girl

Perfect spot for hangover beverages and tasty toast

Ta-da!  Tidy again!

There’s a bloody great big tree in my treehouse!

Nice color doors. Alas, not bigger on the inside.