My camping trip lasted about six hours. E-spouse is still out in the wilderness. I’m home with the kidlings and the pup.
I was delayed getting out to the wild by a series of phone calls (helpful, though unpleasant) a trip to Blockbuster to return a movie that I found on the bottom of the kid’s DVD pile, and a run back to the house to get my cellie, which would not work out in the wilderness, but, nevertheless, goes whence I do.
Once I arrived to the steamy site, I was bombarded by grumpy kids, little girls who wanted to squeeze the Bisc (sounds racier than it was), and smells. Yes, smells. I’ve got a sensitive nose, and not only did my kids smell disgusting, but the girl had barfed all over the tent. E-spouse had cleaned it up, but I could still smell it. Oh, and the latrines. The wind would change and the latrine odor would waft over our camp site, bombarding us with molecules of, well, poopy unpleasantness.
I immediately started drinking beer. I took a group of kids to play in the creek (muddy smell), then parked myself next to the campfire (which I can still smell in my hair). Once folks started prepping din-din, the local scents improved drastically. My contribution to the potluck was to run by Greenlife and buy some goat cheese, tapanade, and crackers. I also put out some slices of smoked turkey. Not bad, but not the level of some of the camp cooks on this trip. One guy was frying fresh fish. Another was making cobbler in a dutch oven that he cooked on the campfire. The same guy was grilling marinated flank steak and sauteeing fresh vegetables. Impressive, to say the least. We ate well. Then I ran out of beer. It was time to load the kids up and come home.
This morning, the kids are still smelly. But it’s about to be shower time. Of course, as soon as I get the kidlings clean, E-spouse will show up with a van full of smelly gear.
In other news, my friend C has renamed his bloggie “The Charm of the Highway Strip,” and he’s writing three sentences each day. No more and no less. It is charming, actually.