Okay, here goes. There was...a camping trip. With Girl Scouts. In December. In the wilds of Virginia. (Would you believe the wilds of the nearest Girl Scout camp ground? The wilds of the suburb? About thirty miles away?) We weren't really camping. We had a building with electricity, heat, and water. We had a grocery list. We had a winery right down the road for the adults. (Seriously, a half mile away. Way to hook us up, Girl Scouts.)
8:30 am. We meet at Harris Teeter. (Just an interjection but Harris Teeter sounds likes too much like Harris Tweeter and that sounds like someone who just tooted and I don't mean on a horn. It does not sound like a grocery store and btw their prices are a little steep. Recession, much? Get a clue. Change your name. Or sue Twitter. Something. Add totter. Yeah, that's it.)
Immediately all the grown-ups rushed in to get coffee. The children screamed and shrieked in joy and tried to play chicken with cars in the parking lot. (Hey, we had a first aid guy.) The teens just kind of looked at us and said, "Whatever."
Eventually we got on the road. I had a tall cup of french vanilla latte, a big ass load of firewood, a cooler with baloney and cheese sandwiches and a really effed up map. I knew I was in trouble. Plus Cressy, our only child, was in the back talking about how fun things were going to be. Life was going to be way cool for this child. She had a horror story picked out to tell. (See Disembodied Hand for more information on that winner.) She had her sleeping bag. She had her stuffed penguin for protection. Mommy was just a side note. ("Convenient and nice to have in a clench but if we lose her, what the heck because I've got other GIRL SCOUTS!")
Off we went, braving Saturday morning traffic. And everyone was out going someplace. Eventually we turned off main roads and after a few miles I was on a single lane road, wondering if I had seriously effed up. There was the sound of banjos and guitars in the air. (My radio plays weird stations. Honest.)
|This was our designated shelter. I think they stuck us in here because |
they were afraid of what we might do. But hey, it had heat and electricity and a
refrigerator. Refrigerator good.
|This is what I actually 'saw.'|
I'm getting in a lot of trouble for this.
|See. This is definitely a drove. Plus two other parent escorts looking|
grim in the background.
|My daughter admiring the manly he-fire. (I brought|
the fire starter and lighter and I don't get any credit.)
|I said to smile and they grunted at me. Baloney lunch residual aftereffect.|
Also they were gathering leaves to shelter the poncho from the windy
2 pm. Other try-it badges were worked upon. The girls had to seek out nature stuff and check it off, working in teams. They found spider webs, tree leaves, bark, animal tracks, and other stuff. Then they all snuck off to play with the seniors. (The seniors were much cooler than the moms. Plus they played soccer with them while I just let them throw rocks at trees.)
|You can totally see the coolness emanating from the senior girls in this|
|The Flat Stanley is the one on the right of the tree.|
For more titillating details on the camping trip of doom, check back.
Will the fire go out?
Will we make s'mores?
Will any one get a booboo?
Will a random bear come in and chow down on an unsuspecting camper?
Will I say the words, twitter, tweeter, or teeter again for continuity?
Will any of the adults make a run for the winery?
Part II to come soon.