July 6, 2010

F.U., Lakehouse!

If you spend enough time on the net  (which you DO, because you found ME) you've probably heard of the hilarious blog, F.U. Penguin (actually, Fuck You, Penguin), where the site host writes mean, taunting dispatches to adorable, fuzzy, and/or just weird-looking members of the animal kingdom.  (Or as the subtitle says: "A blog where I tell cute animals what's what.")  The blog seems to be on a bit of a hiatus, but the owner did get a book out of the whole enterprise. (I saw it on the table at B&N this holiday season and spent several minutes flipping through and giggling out loud.  Here is a primo sample post.

So anyhow, I was bumbling around the 'net in my usual parenting-avoidance state the other day, and stumbled on the first picture below, of that perfect bed.  And I clicked on it, which led to the Flickr set of a whole buncha related photos from this pristine, unbelievable lakehouse in the Adirondacks. The Adirondacks! A whole style of summer outdoor chair from a mountain range, which about sums up the history and mystique of the area.
Just look at that bed, that little nook of a room.  The quilt, the pillows, the white iron bed. The vintage mirror, the lighting sconces, the paned window. That yellow floral comforter that I love so much, I want to eat it.   When I saw the bed, I didn't know where or what that window might look out on, but poking around on the Flickr set led me to the whole house.

Which is where I encountered other pictures of the same house, with this kind of idyllic crap:
A hammock. In a sunporch.  Not just any hammock -- look at the sweet and vintage-y cover.  Not just any sunporch, for look at that 180-degree view of the lake.  I have never slept or spent any significant time in a sunporch.  Ditto for the concept of hanging out a hammock, with or without a juicy novel, or a cute boy, or a sweating glass of icy sun tea or whatever the hell you're supposed to have with you in a hammock. Two of my most favorite words, in one dreamy place. This was just about when The Uglies kicked in.  That's the only good name I have for the wash of vile green envy and pure, degrading lust that flows over me when I see certain houses, certain glimpses into a way of life that are real enough, but completely foreign and pretty much unattainable to the lowly likes of me.

Hence, my post title. Please take it in the same spirit of the more famous blog I'm copying.  This is too adorable, too perfect, too hard to believe that it exists alongside us all on God's green earth. In short: Fuck you, lakehouse!
Here's the exterior of the house.  Green, green trees, green water (me, green with envy).  Imagine waking in the fresh morning, walking down to the deck with a cup of hot coffee.  Listening to and watching the birds, the water lapping soft against the pilings. 
In the attic bedroom with the window view out to the lake, the children will sleep in late every single morning, exhausted by the sun and swimming and late nights. The girl Monkey gets the pink-painted bed on the left; Monkey boy gets the green.
The Monkeys especially won't be waking in the middle the night to disturb their 2 parents, especially since mom was up late again, reading one of the books conveniently shelved on her side of the bed.  (Also? Mom might well be sleeping alone in that Perfect Bedroom up top, hogging the bed all to herself.)

If I had found this house in a magazine, like Cottage Living or such, I don't think my envy would have kicked in so strongly. After all, one expects such perfection in a styled magazine spread. But to stumble upon it on Flickr, sitting there all innocent-like for anyone to find -- or not -- made it all the more unbelievable, at least for me.

It makes me feel somewhat better to know that this house isn't lived in full-time by one extremely lucky family. Instead, it's listed as a weekly rental  for anyone to have -- anyone who can ante up $1700 a week.  That price, plus the airfare it would cost my family of 4 to haul ourselves that far back east, probably makes this an unlikely destination for us.  Still, one can dream. 

And in the meantime? You there, lovely lake in the Adirondacks providing the perfect setting for the perfect lakehouse?
Yeah, fuck you, too. And just so you know? I have a lake in my town! And just because it's a man-made little pond surrounded by cheaply made, cookie-cutter faux-Cape Cods here in this arid suburban sprawl, and just because the city closes it down at dusk, doesn't make it any less.....
Wet. So there.

All photos courtesy of here, where you can also find rental information for your own Perfect Lakeside Summer. 


  1. OH MY GOD. I just drooled into my computer keys. All your fault. That IS the perfect bed. D'oh! I hate lakehouse porn!

  2. those beds look so sweet. thanks for sharing!

  3. I imagine there's all kinds of badness happening to those Lakehouse people. There must be, has to be!
    Just a thought: I know some people who've bought rather cheap lakeside-ish cabins up kind of near Big Bear. Real fancy ones are going for something like 80 thou, and fixers are going for something like 30. Like I said, just a thougt.


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