It must be fall

It must be fall b/c we have 8 gazillion things going on in one day.  There are about 3 weekends almost guaranteed to be nice and every activity must be crammed into them.  Today we had to go to Toys Sure "R" Expensive to buy birthday presents for two parties today.  Got home, wrapped the gifts, sent Ben down the street to Wolfgang's party.  In a half an hour, we're off to the park for the Braddock Heights Community Picnic and Auction and Ice Cream Social.  Then Steve takes Ben and Julianna back to the TRU to some Pokemon event to "catch" a special pokemon on their DS games.  Then Lily has a birthday party to attend.  And at some point I want to take them into Middletown for the Heritage days (encampments and a book sale!).  And  tomorrow is 50% off clothes day at Goodwill!  So much to do.  And here I sit, reading lolsecretz (no thanks to Andi).  It's a combo of PostSecrets and lolcats.  And it's funnier than either:

Last night, I hosted my last Tastefully Simple party.  My good friend Stacey is a consultant, so I told her I'd host one more party.  Only I hate doing that b/c I hate asking my friends to come to my house to buy things.  Even if I am feeding them.  Plus, I"m not a fan of the product, really. The stuff is okay, but it's not the way I cook.  If I'm going to bake a dessert, it's going to be from scratch.  I don't use spice blends.  And my life just doesnt' involve dip that often.  I like all these things well enough, but not well enough to keep around.  I hate home parties.  I hate that there's a display in my dining room.  I hate the pitch.  And she was wearing a shirt that said "Tastefully Simple" right under her head.  Like a label.  Gracie Allen was tastefully simple.  So anyway.  I'm done with this schtick.  Come to my house, eat some food, have a drink, enjoy.  But leave your checkbook at home.

Oh, and Andi's going to have a baby soon and she's made the mistake of asking people what they think of names before the baby is actually here.  You should go weigh in.  The advice of utter strangers is just what every hormone-addled new mother-to-be needs.  Hint: don't let her name a girl Reed.

It's all just smoke and mirrors. Oh, and dead babies.

It seems likely that I'm doing stuff and the kids are cute or something, but who can notice with so much awesome TV?  First, my primary trash TV love, ANTM. We open with the discovery that all the previous seasons of stretch Hummers to drive the girls around didn't count.  Because now they get to ride in a "green" bus.  "This cycle, Tyra wanted to pay attention to the environment, so Top Model is Going Green!"  And it's green as well as "green" b/c if it isn't ostentatious and showy, it isn't actually happening.  The interior looks like something Hildy from Trading Spaces would come up with given a "green" theme.  There's grass everywhere and it's all recycle-y and stuff.  Right.  Whatever, Tyra.  The house is all "green,"  poured concrete, recycled materials...enormous photos of Tyra recycling another race's culture by painting herself like an aborigine.  The girls all dash around getting their beds and jumping (or falling, Lisa!) into the pool with their clothes on.  You know who doesn't jump around like an idiot?  Heather.  You see, she has Ozberger's syndrome.  Apparently the symptoms are a lot like Asperger's, only it lets you be okay with being on national TV and makes you hyper aware of the word "ass." 

One of our little sub-stories today is that Bianca hates Lisa.  She had been hating Ebony, but even she could see that Bianca vs. Ebony was just going to be a little too easy to make fun of ("if only they'd named her Ivory instead of Bianca, then they'd be together in perfect harmony!").  Lisa, for all of her bikini dancer ways, is stunning.  Bianca has purple hair.  In the end,  Bianca apologizes to Lisa, but then says in the confessional that she only did it b/c she didn't want it to get back to Tyra that she'd been  nasty.  Awesome.  Poor Ebony had SO set herself up as the bitch and it gets stolen away by some homegirl in a $25 weave.  Bummer.

And THEN, to make it even harder on Ebony to come back, we get to see Kimberly (who?) advising the other girls to stay away from Heather b/c "people like that?  They cling."  When Heather talks to her, she says she's "like whatever" b/c she's afraid that Heather will think she's...human?  Not a horrid monster? ....and make her a "go-to person."  Yipes.  Ebony, hon, you are going to have to try a LOT harder than "Let's guess who has an eating disorder."

The photo shoot reveals that Tyra has had another change of heart.  Eight seasons of chain-smoking girls riding in Hummers has come to an end.  This is a No Smoking Season and all the girls have to quit.  Now.  Day-um.  Three bitches in the house isn't enough, now she's going to make them go through withdrawl?  "Back at the house, girls, you will find a box of blunt instruments and switchblade knives.  Enjoy." Awesome.  Seriously, I bow to her.  So anyway, the shoot is the girls looking at their reflections in the mirror as they (the girls, not the mirrors) smoke.  The reflection is a photoshopped in image of the girl exhibiting a side-effect of smoking.  You know, premature aging, lung cancer, chemo, DEAD BABIES!  Yes, they posed a model with a "stillborn child" in her arms.  WTF?  None of the girls batted an eye at that though.  Saleisha was just upset that she had to share a frame with Heather.  She almost got that Ozburger all over her.  ew.

They had some lame ass challenge to buy "modelesque" clothes at Old Navy.  It involved running around trashing the store and turning up in dresses that barely cover their bums.  Miss Jay told them to keep it simple.  The ubiquitous Benny Ninja told them to be sure to buy lots of scarves and necklaces.  The show just doesn't even TRY to make sense any more.

At panel, although refreshingly free of carnations or ruffles or other weird gimmicks, Miss J looks like a Cosby Kid.  hey hey hey!  Twiggy looks like maybe she's gotten into Janice Dickinson's stash (but sure as hell not her wardrobe. What in the heck was was she wearing?), Tyra looks pretty good.  Nigel remains Nigel.  Mila, shocking no one, goes home.  She takes the news with a dead-eyed smile.  Seriously, she looked like a budgie. 

Beauty (kinda) and the Geek (oh yes)

We've been watching this since season 1.  It's much nicer than most reality shows in that the geeks aren't humiliated (much) and the beauties...well, they bury themselves, really.  Because somewhere along the way beauty was translated as "moderately attractive in a totally boring way and very, very stupid."  The geeks, however are always full on geeks.  Some ugly, some not, all dorky all the time.  The high point of geekdom was the guy from Season 2 whose tag line always read "Tracks monkeys with lasers."  Never any real explanation.  Just "tracks monkeys with lasers."  If ever there was a lost opportunity for T-shirt sales, this was it.

This year, the beauty pool features bosoms.  Great big bosoms.  Purchased at great expense ($8K, Amanda proudly proclaimed, and I'm pretty sure she was paying by the pound), but considered by one of the interchangeable blondes to be "an investment" b/c the amount she'll save in getting free drinks will cover the cost of the boob job.  Amanda's big dream is to be a Playboy centerfold.  Now admittedly, I haven't seen Playboy in quite some time (and boy do I miss the articles), but I don't think bosoms that cause people to recoil in terror was really the Playboy aesthetic.  Jugs, on the other hand, is watching her carefully.  As is Knocked-Up and Gun-Toting, but they'll have to wait for her to land a man.  Jennifer, bless her heart, is a big ol' Anna Nicole of a gal.  Her CW profile says she's at Northeastern U on a rowing scholarship (journalism major, natch).  She could totally kick the butt of any of the other contestants.  Even the dude with the foam broadsword.  I was all hating on her until she got paired up with a geek who was scared to death of her.  All she could see was that he clearly didn't want to be with her (we, the all knowing audience had heard him say he was skeered), and she just murmured, "Sorry you got stuck with me."  It was so raw and sad that now I'm pulling for her.  My current favorite is Jasmine.  She has this weird baby-on-a-pack-a-day voice and is just gleefully stupid.  I'm sure I'll switch alliances once it gets going, though.  I'm fickle like that.

The geek pool usually features one Super Geek, always trying to achieve the astonishing level of geekhood reached by Season One's Richard.  This season's Richard is Joshua, not to be confused with Josh who is actually kind of cute and is in a Rubberband Club.  There's always a tool, who will be played this season by David.  David is a "LARPer" which means he dresses up in his D&D costume and tears around a field whapping his friends with a broadsword made of foam.  Patton Oswalt plays him on Reno 911.  And truthfully?  I think it sounds kinda fun.  Unfortunately, most LARPers are Comic Book Guy losers like David.  This season's guy-you-want-to-put-in-your-pocket is Tony who is, of course, Asian.  Adorable.  He wears a bowtie.  Will is fat and balding and wears a flack vest and makes me sad.  William is skinny and has enormous ears and makes me sad.  Luke?  I'm calling Luke Hedgie b/c of his hair.  That makeover show cannot come fast enough for him.

You'll note that I've not mentioned this year's "twist"--they've tossed in a geeky girl and a stupid-but-good-looking boy.  I didnt' mention it b/c I don't care.  The girl will get a sexy librarian taking down her hair makeover (Miss Yakamoto!  You're beautiful!"  And the boy looks like a serial killer and is actually an actor with a lengthy entry on IMDB.  I don't know why that bothers me, but it does.  Even if he WAS on Veronica Mars.

The highlight of this casting episode was watching the girls answer questions.  Like "What was the last book you read?"  "Well, I haven't done much reading since I started college..."   "Who was the first man on the moon?"  "Lance Armstrong!"  But my favorite moment was when Joshua got so tongue-tied when faced with a room full of boobs and hair that his called his mom and put her on speaker phone so that she could tell them how great he is.  Awesome.  We anxiously await the next installment.  Life before reality show TV was hollow indeed.

Urp?

Saw this at the Safeway today.  "Which piece of mouse do you prefer? "  "I'll just have a slice of head please, thanks."

In case you missed it...

For those of you who get alerts, I've finished the ANTM post, but I just added to the original rather than starting a separate post.

Yes, Andi, I'll cover dear old Beauty and Geek.  We have it on TiVo and plan to watch it tonight.

I really prefer D'nah, but if you insist...

And feel better soon ,Ellen!!

My eyes!!

Okay, I was going to watch all of last nights ANTM before posting. I missed it on the telly (I KNOW!), so I'm watching it on YouTube.  I thought I should finish before commenting, but I'm only on the second part and I've had to stop to regain my composure.  First, there was the girl named Spontaniouse (ATTENTION PREGNANT WOMEN:  this is NOT an acceptable name.  Naming your child after character traits is risky at best.  Seriously, Chastity?  But if you insist on emulating your Pilgrim forbears, do not, do NOT give the spelling a tweak.  If your child is named Vivacious, people will say, "really? Is it hard to have a name like that?"  If your child is named Vyvayshus, people will say, "Holy shit, was your mom on crack?!?"  Andi, I'm looking at you.  Don't you name my niece/nephew Dysgruntallt or Craynkee.),  then there was a drag queen dressed as Tyra doing some silly song in a cruise ship dining room (and over breakfast, no less.  Who can handle a quickly-out-of-breath old queen before 10 am?), then we had the hunchback with Aspergers, and then, THEN a girl pretended to give Tyra a brazillian bikini wax.  No lie.  She said, with a Georgian accent, "You gotta get the crack up.  You gotta spread the cheeks..."  And actually touched Tyra's lady parts.  Through a dress, yes, but seriously, this puts Trynny and Suzannah's "You got fantastic tits!" to SHAME.  Poor choice of words, I think...  I only wish I knew how to capture stills to share with you Miss J's  "oh LORDY!" face.  And then, before I'd caught my breath, Marvita (seriously, people.  Seriously) was calling out Ebony for being a bitch (and she was right, but she is not pretty) and just holy cow.  So I had to come over and keep a running commentary.  I'll be right back...

Oh please keep the Boston bahtendah!  I want to listen to her talk. I miss Cheers. Plus, she's half almost blind!  Oh, Marvita is going to feed Vamptyra!  "I hear that you been through a lotta lotta stuff in your life.  Tell me about growing up and all the things you went through and all the tragedy."  And make it WET.  Tyra grows thirsty.  half blind in one eye is NOT cutting it.  "A lot of people have done a lot of bad things to me."  Tyra replies, "Why don't you talk about that?"  Because it's PAINFUL you monster!!  And then they follow her up with Mila, who says she's had a good life so far and she likes to celebrate b/c she's so happy!  The winces on their faces--yes, they're wincing--suggest that is NOT going to cut it my friend.  Go poke one of your eyes and get back to us.  And then, as if I had written the script for her, Tyra says, "when was the last time you cried?"  Then? They mock her when she leaves.  In their defense, she's not all that cute, kinda doughy and can't walk.

Okay, in the 3rd part, a girl pulls a really long paper out of her nose.  Excellent.  Cast her.  And then the girl who is an exotic dancer "I'm not naked!  I'm not topless!  I wear a bikini!"  Gives one of the other girls a lap dance.  Because if there's one thing the other cycles have taught us, it's that Tyra loves to bring strippers and "dancers" into modelling...  The bitch, Ebony?  Her mom is a crackhead.  Tyra was able to get that out of her (the tears make it slide out better) and told her that that was why she's a bitch.  Thank you, Tyra!  Saleisha and Chantal (no, I really do wish I was kidding) vow to be the last two standing.  Chantal is convinced that she was MADE to model.  I'm not aware of a belief system that is headed by a god that would do something like that, but okay...

I must post now and make dinner.  more later.

Okay, part four, they winnow down the herd to 20.  The rest of them "will be left behind on this island."  Day-um.  Then they have to stand there and pretend to happily wave bon voyage?  Day-um. So before Tyra goes into "deliberation with Mr. and Mrs. Jay" (did they get married?  I can only IMAGINE the dress.  Holy cow.), she makes the girls tell her (and all the others) why each of them should go on.  Sadly, it is not hilarious.  In deliberation, they let little slip, but I'm still betting that Mila Merry Sunshine does not move on.  The designate one girl, who is neither plus sized nor frighteningly thin, "real sized."  Whatever.  The horse faced Victoria looks like Janice from Friends--"Hel-LO Chandlah Bing!"  Okay, I was wrong.  Mila is in. They must just hope that her sunshine collides with clouds for dramatic thunder!  What?  Dammit Jim, I'm not a meteoroligist.    They keep showing Lisa crying, so that means she's in....sucks to be the girl next to her though.  She's wearing this horrible early 90s prom gown and has thick legs, but she seldom gets more than an elbow on screen.  Poor dear.  But she's not in, so she doesn't count.  There we are.  Our lucky 13.

To break from our semi-live blog and recap:
Ebony (the bitch)
Heather (Captain Aspergers)
Mila (Captain Prozac)
Janet (the Waxer)
Jenah (the one all girls hate b/c they're intimidated.  What?  I have nothing pithy yet)
Chantal (Born Model)
Ambreal (Tall Girl who Looks Short)
Victoria (Janice from Yale)
Sarah (who?)
Saleisha (the one whose name isn't as funny as Spontaniouse)
Kimberly (who? see, they DO need silly names)
Lisa (does not dance topless)
Bianca ($25 weave)

Gone are my bahtendah and Marvita, whose tears were not enough to hide the fact that she's not even remotely pretty.  Not that that generally matters on this show.  Coming on this cycle--drama.  Explotation of a "disorder" or "disability".  Makeovers.  Enjoy!

...which reminds me

I've been catching up on Andi's blog (bottom link on my blog list) and it's reminding me of too many eerie life similarities (except the pregnancy.  Thank god)...In addition to our apparent employability, we share having dudes on our roof .  When we moved in, our roof was a nice fire-engine red.  It is now the Nantucket red that goes well with expensive polos and Topsiders.  Which I'll find for you at Goodwill.  But this is not the color I want on my roof.  So we're having it painted.  Paint costs, it turns out, are determined by the square footage of the roof.  The square footage of the roof is something few people consider when purchasing a house.  This is a mistake.  Particularly if the roof is metal and painted.  Our dinky little under 2000 sq. feet house has a roof with the sq footage of a damned mall.  Six Gables, you see.  How quaint.  How architecturally interesting.  How costly to paint.  But anyway, I have a guy stomping around up there. It's like Santa is here, all day every day.  Only instead of bringing me presents, he's taking my money.  And he's telling me that the last person who patched our roof did a crappy job.  Which I could have guessed b/c the previous owners of this house were staunch devotees of the bubblegum-and-duct-tape school of home repair.  And before that, ancient people lived here (standard old people, not like Incas or something), and before that, it was a summer cottage.  And we all know how well the rental home gets treated.  "Rode hard and put up wet" is a colorful phrase that applies here.  We're forever discovering little tidbits, like the fire in the early 20s.  Like the creative wiring.  Like the sub-code plumbing.  Character!  We have to periodically have people over so they can tell us how great the house is.  Because we love it, we do....but damn it's like an abusive relationship.  Couldn't it just be haunted or something?  Oh wait, it is.  But at least soon, it will have a fire-engine red roof.  So we have that.

This cannot be good.

I was shopping the Goodwill yesterday.  I am the master of thrift shopping, for I have an eye for good fabric and design and I can pull that designer name out of a sea of Faded Glory and Norton McNaughton.  Back in the day, Leslie and I were the queens of plucking the Hanna Andersson and Oilily from the racks of McKids and Circo and reselling them at a tidy profit... (Leslie was better than me).  all this to say that I'm naturally classy.  Not klassy, like Rick James.  Classy, like Grace Kelly.  I am programmed for the finer things.  I have dragged my hillbilly heritage to my Cape Cod birthplace.  So I'm walking through the Goodwill,  with a tailored wool blazer and two piece Flax ensemble (retail at least $120!) over my arm.  A woman comes up to me and says, "Excuse me, where are the ladies handbags?"  I'm game, I'm a seasoned shopper AND a helpful citizen. "Hmm...they used to be here with the belts and shoes...They keep moving things around on me."  "Yes.  Well, do you at least know where you keep the dressy dresses?"  Where *I* keep?  I keep them in the closet in Julianna's room b/c I so seldom use them, but why would you care?  Oh no.  You think I WORK at Goodwill.  Holy crap.  So Andi, you can just stop your whining.

She's a handful

Lily turned FIVE on Saturday.  Me wee-est bairn!  Babe of my bosom!....is finally that much closer to the age of reason, thanks be to heaven.  I shall mourn Julianna's passage into adolescence.  But loss of preschooler?  Not so much.  Crazy little monkeys the lot of them.  Cute?  Oh yes.  But they don't make good housepets.

Saturday night we went to the fair, so that Lily could get her birthday funnel cake.  Rides were ridden, chickens ogled, games of "skill" avoided.  Earlier we'd gone to the Small Angels annual picnic and Lily won a bingo game, so it was like double presents.  What says birthday like bingo prizes?  I'd gotten her one of those accursed damnable Webkinz.  Julianna had been on a quest for a husky.  Had to have the husky  Which, of course, was hard to find.  So I ended up calling around looking for it.  I swear, it felt dirty.  I couldn't believe I was playing their stupid game.  Blech.  But it was her money.  In retrospect, I should have had HER call.  I'll drive her to meet the dealer, but I am not making the contact.  The upshot, of course, is that these stupid animals became very attractive to Lily.  "Nope, sorry.  You have to be able to read to use the website."  Julianna: "No you don't mom."  "Thanks."  Of course you don't.  For those who do not house a child between the ages of 4 and 14, Webkinz are these beanie baby sized animals that come with a code in their sealed-until-you-cough-up-12-bucks tag.  Then you can log onto the website and play with your stuffed animal in a virtual setting.  There, isn't that nicer than having to pick up the actual toy and manipulate it?  Speaking of manipulation, other products tied into the Webkinz offer "special codes" to be used for more schwag on the site.  It makes bitter.  Because if I'd thought of it, I'd be a gazillionaire.  Damn.

Birthday party was Sunday.  Old buddies Emma and Sarah were there, along with new child Rosie.  Also Taro and Maeve from up the street.  A perfect size by my reckoning.  I've mastered the child party now.  Two games (in this case, pass the parcel and find the goody bags), cake and presents.  Then turn them outside for running and screaming, to call them back in for pinata just before the folks arrive.  Two hours.  No problem.  I highly recommend it. 

Oh, by the way?  No pictures.  My digital camera keeled over.  I'm on the film again.  I took the ailing digital to Ritz Camera which could make me feel like I was getting ripped off if they were handing me money.  The woman there looked up the average cost of repair for my camera and told me she'd suggest just buying a new one.  Oh?  do you sell those here?  How convenient for me.  I trotted back out, with my camera.  Later, I looked on the Canon website...oh look, both problems my camera is having are known problems with camera and will be fixed for free by Canon.  Fancy that.

I'm cranky tonight, it seems.  Anyway, Lily had a good birthday, capped off by an eNORmous amount of cucumber sushi.  Some days she seems to live on a squeeze yogurt and a couple of boogers.  Other days there just isn't enough food to put in her.

Oh, today at school, she did her birthday walk.  After the walk around the sun five times, her teacher asked her friends to give her five wishes.  Natalie said, "I wish....you had a friend."  Uh?  Thanks?  Emma said, "I wish...your house...was surrounded by TALL grass, as tall as the Empire State Building and it was full of flowers!"  Sara then chimed in, "I wish you had a flying unicorn!"  Aiden wished she had a helicopter.  It all sounds lovely.  Then it was time for the special snack I brought--those little ice cream cups with the paper lid you pull off and then you eat the ice cream with a wooden stick.  Only I brought 12 and there are 15 kids in the class.  Niiiiice.  I'm sure the kindergardeners will understand.  Right?  I lit out of there and headed for the 7-11 to buy a pint of ice cream and was back before the last kid was done.  Oy.  Way to feel like a heel, I tells ya.

Bok?

So here at the Circle of Life Ranch and Rodent Hospice, we have a bit of bad news.  Mildred met her end at the hands (paws?  jaws?) of a fox.  Kind of a storybook ending, if you're a chicken.  A bit of a cliche, really, but she wasn't especially imaginative, if truth be told.  I am, of course, very sad to no longer hear her soft bokking.  I'm conflicted about bringing in replacement chickens.  I liked having her, but less responsibility is always welcome...esp. since we're going away for a week in January.  Finding someone to slog through the snow to check on chickens could be a challenge.  Plus, I'm just not sure I'm up to more grisly critter death.  Fredo died about a year ago and between him and Mildred have been a score of rodents and hermit crabs.  Frankly, I'm done.  I declare a moratorium on death.  Make it so.

Please, no ball lofting.

So, the day after my birthday, I wanted to go roller skating.  I haven't skated in years, and haven't been to a rink since I lived in Germany.  There, we had this great rink with both in-line and regular skates.  And steps.  And half-pipes.  And a trampoline.  It seems there are no liability laws in Germany.  It was awesome.  But I'd have settled for some good old-fashion skating around in a circle, listening to bad pop music....with my comb in my back pocket...feathered hair blowing back...  But I need to get back my skating chops, b/c I totally want in on this action.  I think a roller derby team made up entirely of moms who don't physically punish their kids would kick ASS.  Imagine the pent-up rage and hostility.  I'll be working on my roller name.  I will ROCK that satin jacket, my friends.

Annnyway....the roller rink was closed with no explanation.  But the duckpin bowling place next door was open.  So that's where we went.  For you people unlucky enough to live far from Baltimore, duckpins are squat little bowling pins that you knock down with a little cannonball-sized ball.  It's cooler than bowling.  I know, but really.  It is.  See?  Same cool shoes:


Same riveting scoreboard action:


Same incredibly awesome dedication to 1950s design:


But here?  Funny signs.



Seriously, how can you beat THAT?

ETA:  Lily, by the way, didn't so much bowl as release the balls into the lane.  She'd sort of set them down and nudge them toward freedom.  The balls, for their part, were ambivalent about the whole thing,  and kind of meandered up the lane, occasionally bonking into a pin, but just as often dropping into the gutter.  Which would be expected from an almost 5 year old, but we had the bumpers up to prevent gutter balls (we are AMAZING at bowling with the bumpers up!).  She managed to get gutter balls anyway.  Each time, she'd crouch down, set the ball down with a little nudge, and then turn and hide her face in my stomach, the suspense being too much to take.  "Tell me when it knocks one down!"  Okay honey, but we have a while.  Would you like me to sing Alice's Restaurant for you, in the meantime?

this one goes out to Austin

Hi, I'm back and I'm on the other side of 40 now.  I'll just pretend that there are no implications of mortality there.  So Friday, I took the kids to school and did my car line routine.  I had finally gotten one of those birthday cake hats and I wore that, affording me many, many opportunities for this exchange:

"OH, is it your birthday?"
"no, why?"

And then went straight to Greenbrier State Park because they don't take reservations and it's Labor Day weekend.  Only I get there and discover that now they DO take reservations and are booked up.  Um.  The nice lady said she'd check to see if there'd  been any cancellations for the night.  While she was looking, I thought to mention, "Well, it's my birthday and I was just going to camp out tonight with my friends..."  "Well," she said, "we DO keep a few sites in reserve for emergencies...like yours."  So I if some poor family stumbled off the road needing a place to stay, too bad. It's not THEIR birthday.

I secured the site and went home to get Ben his sneakers and lunch money (the ONE day he doesn't wear sneakers, it's PE.) and take them to the school.  Then home for a quick kitchen tidy and short nap.  Then back to the camp to pitch the tent.

The sites were a lot closer together than I expected, so it's just as well that I abandoned my plan to camp all by myself.  There would have been no introspection on that night anyway.  As soon as I started to unpack the tent, I began to hear the theme song of our stay:  "AuuuuSTIN!  Gitoverhere!"  Occasionally, sister Ashley (no, I'm serious) got a "WHERE do you think yer goin'?" but it was young Austin who was the real troublemaker.  But I got up the tent, hoped they were just stressed about pitching camp and would chill the hell out, and went to get my kids from school.

No, they didn't chill.  But you knew that already, didn't you?  When I got back to camp for the night, I had a couple of hours before Bev and Lara showed.  So I set up the chairs and unpacked the food and tried to start a fire. No outside firewood was allowed in b/c of some weevil infestation or something, so I had to buy wood at the camp store ("you can gather and chop any deadwood you find!"  Yeah,thanks).  I'd gathered loads of kindling, enoughfor the next morning's fire, too.  So I thought.  The wood from the store was greener than Ralph Nader.  It hissed and carried on in a  most discouraging way.  All the while, "AuuuuSTIN!  Whuddoyou think yer doin?" "DAMMIT AUSTIN!"  Good times.  This crew had two adjoining pad sites, many people of many ages.  Nothing like getting to join someone else's dysfunctional family reunion.  The site right next to mine had a mom and two kids.  Years of living downtown with a narrow back garden had taught me how to not see or hear people mere feet away, but they apparently had never lived downtown and insisted on saying hi.  And showing me bugs.  And telling me about snails.  Look kid.  I HAVE children.  If I'd wanted to camp with kids, I'd have brought my own.  Luckily mom called "Bree!  Did you move my cigarettes?"  I began to fear that this was not a state park, but a trailer park.  I realized that I should have just hopped on the AT and hiked to the next shelter to camp.  I also realized that I suck at building fires.  How hard can it BE?

Finally Bev and Lara showed up with cake and presents.  I put on my birthday hat.

Hello Kitty cupcakes!  yay!  They also brought wine and olives and dippy things.  It is very, very good to share your birthday with friends.  No sooner had I warned them about Austin than we heard "AuuuSTIN!Gitoverhere!" and cracked up.  And, about then, the fire really caught.  It never burned high, but it was warm and nice to look at.  So we ate and drank and felt bad for Austin and complained about the bright flippin' light our neigbors had.  When I went up for more wood, I managed to get dry stuff this time and all was well.  cozy, contented, nice.  Lara slept in her car on a memory foam mat.  Bev and I took the tent and the blow up mattress.  Bev, bless 'er, was out cold before she got horizontal.  I lay down and immediately had to pee.   Trudged up to the bath house.  Back.  Lay down.  Snooze.  Wake cold and needing to pee.  If I get up, I'll wake up completely.  but I can't sleep needing to pee.  but it's cold...and so on, pretty much all night until about 6 or so, when Lara got up to pee and set her car alarm off.  I later suggested that she should have just yelled "AuuuSTIN!  Turn that damned thing off!"  Of course, when MY alarm goes off, I panic and can't remember what to do and it just goes on and on while I curse like mad.  So I got up, went to the bath house, made fun of Lara, got another blanket out of the van and went back to sleep until 9.  got up, made the fire (so easy with dry wood!  I'm not a fire failure after all!), got the water on for coffee, and heated the danish.

Oh, did I not mention that I was dressed as a gnome?  I was. 

Then we just hung out. Lara didn't roll out of her bed until 11, by which point we'd broken camp and were musing about how funny it would be to just leave.  We were home by noon.  More later.  First, here are some other photos:


home, sweet, home



bedding folding action!



Crone in the woods.