That cabin in Highmarket NY was a trip. Literally it seemed like it took forever to drive there – 
especially from CT but I grew to love long rides in the car. They had a huge barn and they had what seemed like a whole fleet of those old yellow belt snowmobiles. They also had a sugar shack out in the woods and they would make maple syrup. There were plastic milk jugs hanging off of every tree in site in every direction. The smell of that syrup was so good. We use to make our own little maple snow cones (sometimes in our hands with the raw sap). Some of the kids took the snowmobiles out one time and I wanted to as well even though I had never driven one. Seemed easy enough. I was riding and ran right over a small tree. My step Grandfather came out and yelled at me for driving over it and I of course said “no I didn’t”. I guess I didn’t think about the fact that there was a snowmobile trail right over the tree. So much for plausible deniability.
There was also a big propane tank out by the garage. One time Timmy and I did the cliché sticking our tongue on it in the winter and of course my tongue got stuck to it. I was crying
like a baby – “Thimmy – help me! Go get thoneone tho they can get my thongue unthtuck”! Of course a little glass of water was all that was needed to release me from my frozen hell. Couldn’t wait to get inside and snuggle up in my Underoos after that one.
Because my birthday is in late November, it would sometimes fall on Thanksgiving so I would spend my birthday in Highmarket on those occasions. So instead of cake I got my choice of Mincemeat pie or Apple pie – I hate pie. There was one occasion though where they made me a cake – a white cake with white frosting and apples on it. White cake – really? It’s chocolate or its nothing!!! I still mustered up enough to eat it though.
Evenings were usually spent in their living room watching Hee Haw, Lawrence Welk, Little 
House on the Prairie or some other feel good show. We used to sit there bored as hell and watch these shows like tortured little minions. It really wasn’t that bad as we’d sit there on the floor playing with Play-Doh, Legos or writing in our Fun Pads. There was always the loft above one of the bedrooms which had old ass toys from when their kids were young like erector sets and ancient board games. We’d always go up there thinking we were going to find some kind of new fun treasure that was going to keep us occupied for hours but alas, we would go back down after like 15 minutes every time. Wanna play another game of Old Maid?
My Last Years of Childhood 