the slow sundays club
lake muskoka
Join the sunday house community.
we meet Sundays, July 6 - Aug 24, 8AM - 3PM, Top of lake muskoka.
Membership is $750 per person (Ages 3+) for the season. Come every Sunday or just some, whatever works best for you. No set schedule, come as you like.
This is not a resort, or a camp it’s a home-based community building activity for cottage owners and cottage lovers in Muskoka. For people like you.
We’re not making money on it this summer—in fact, we’re personally subsidizing most of the cost. We just really believe in what we’re building.
Try your first Sunday, risk-free.
If you’re not in love after your first Sunday, we’ll refund the pro-rated remainder of your season—no questions asked.
We think you’ll want to come back. But if not, no hard feelings.
MEET YOUR FAMILIES NEW SUNDAY RITUAL
we Wanted a Place Where Summer Felt Like the summers we remembered. Not a resort. Not a camp. Not a restaurant. Just a rhythm, a table, a towel by the lake. Sunday House is the space we couldn’t find—so we built it.
When I think back to my childhood, it looked like kids on docks, wet towels in tangled piles, neighbors who knew your name, just enough structure to feel safe, and just enough freedom to feel wild.
But somewhere along the way, that kind of community stopped being easy to find. It doesn’t really seem to exist anymore. most people don’t go to church. There’s no bowling league. No communal meeting place. Just full calendars and nowhere we actually want to be. A hundred Slack channels. No one to share a meal WITH.
Sunday House is our response. the thing that happens when you stop trying so hard to create community and just create the space for it to find you.
The house
Sundays: 8 AM – 3 PM
JuLY 6 – AUG 24th
You’ll be joining us (Kat & Zak) at home on Lake Muskoka. #14-1211 Foreman Road, Port Carling, Top of Lake Muskoka.
the RITUAL
Sundays from July 6 to Aug 24th our community meets to partake in swimming and paddling sessions, dock and beach side lounging, an artisanal family style lunch, and so much more. Everything’s included.
Into it?
Don't just wave from the dock
dive in.
Your cottage will still be there when you get back.
if the first Sunday doesn’t feel like magic? We’ll refund the rest. No questions asked.
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WHEN THE ORANGE TOWEL IS OUT, magic begins.
Every morning at the cottage when I was growing up, my cousins and I would crouch in the bushes, watching the balcony. We were waiting for one thing: the orange towel. When it appeared, we knew what it meant. My grandparents were ready for us. Breakfast was on. It’s a small gesture — but it’s seared into my childhood. A quiet ritual that said: you’re welcome now.
At Sunday House, every Sunday begins the same way.
There’s no bell. No loudspeaker. No formal announcement. Just one orange towel, hung to dry on the railing.
That’s how you’ll know: the house is open, the coffee is hot, and the day has begun. It’s our secret signal — part flag, part welcome mat, part old camp tradition. The orange towel means: come in. Take your shoes off. Jump in the lake. Grab a drink. Stay awhile. Kids know it. Neighbours watch for it. New friends learn fast.
No towel? We’re still setting up (or still asleep).
Orange towel? It’s Sunday. Let’s go.
What being a member means
People don’t come to Muskoka by accident. You came because you wanted something better—not louder, not faster, but real. A life with space for tradition and spontaneity. A community that doesn’t just wave from the dock but knows your name and your story. These eight Sundays are for people who chose this place on purpose. They’re not events, they’re declarations. That time matters. That connection matters. That beauty and simplicity are worth organizing your week around.
Whether you’re raising kids or just raising your standards for how good life can feel, these are the days that give shape to the stories that last. They’re the ones you’ll tell around campfires and dinner tables for years. A reason to put your phone away. A way to build a shared language of joy, season after season. This is not about searching. This is about choosing. And choosing well.
Sundays that become a ritual
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the food
At Sunday House, food is part of the creative process. Zak prepares seasonal meals outdoors each week as a kind of culinary craft — from handmade breads and crisp salads to charred vegetables and slow-roasted dishes. Everything is made from scratch and served family-style in a casual, welcoming setting. The menu changes weekly, guided by what’s fresh and inspiring.
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Weekly Programming
Sunday House programming is designed for families — structured enough to feel special, but relaxed enough to feel like summer. Paddle and swim sessions (canoe, kayak, paddleboard), supported by certified lifeguards. Dockside movement classes. Some weeks may include crafts, or low-key games. Everything is led by our small team and designed to feel natural, safe, and part of a shared rhythm.
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The Regatta
One Sunday each summer, we host a small, friendly “Regatta” — just a lighthearted afternoon where families paddle in teams, cheer each other on, and share lemonade on the dock. There’s no registration, no prizes — just a fun excuse to move together on the lake and celebrate the season.
Meet Kat & Zak
I’m Kat. I founded a company called Sheertex—the one that made unbreakable tights out of ballistic-grade fibers. It was intense. Wild. Unforgettable. And when my time there ended rather abruptly this year, I decided to take my over active mind and apply it to something utterly unscalable: I decided to build Sunday House.
This of this as you hiring a woman who’s raised hundreds of millions in venture capital, to plan the world’s best Sunday for barefoot kids and tired parents. This isn’t a business plan—it’s a love letter with a lemonade stand.
Fair warning: I’m an introvert who somehow ended up obsessed with throwing events for large groups of humans. Zak is the opposite. He’s the extrovert, the host, the guy who will remember your dog’s name and how your kid likes their marshmallows roasted. He’s the charisma. I’m the plan. Together, we make it work.
We overdo things. We know this. And we intend to thoroughly overdo this. Our two-year-old will be our tiny compass. When he’s wet, sun-kissed, slightly feral, and happy—we’ll know we’re on track. When he’s melting down? That’s why there's wine.
If you want to learn more about me, or why we’re doing this you can read more on my Substack.