Sunday, July 27, 2014

Two Nights Camping

"You're in luck!" the old man said to Kevin.  "There was a cancellation half an hour ago!"

When he returned to the truck and told us, we all cheered.  Even our little guy Trevor, who had been holding his hands to his tummy because he needed to poop.

"I prayed," said Tamara.

We got Site #82 and much to Trevor's relief it was next to the #7 outhouse.

Inside our camping trailer...  "What are you doing, Mom?"

"Testing out the bed," I said.  I explained the extra blankets were put on the mattress to keep the bed springs from poking us.

"Take a test, take a rest!" he chanted.  "Take a test, take a rest!"

Thankfully there was no fire ban, but our wood was damp and it took considerable time to get the flames going.  "Gotta do smaller pieces," said Kevin.  "Slivers."

Finally he cheated with gasoline and by six the fire blazed well enough to roast four European wieners.  He inhaled his hot dog but I enjoyed every bite slowly.  Imagine what it's like to eat while the occasional whiff of marijuana from neighboring sites overpowers the campfire smell, and the nearby river continuously roars.

By the way, we ate our vegetables like good little Canadians.  Trevor opted only for grape tomatoes, or Moon Squirters, as Tamara likes to call them.

Next day I got time to myself so I wandered through the forest, listening to the male British narrator inside my head and pondering endorphins until I reached a clearing where a green-vested fisherman was pissing into the river.  It would've been funny if he got a bite on his hook at that exact moment!

I kept going until I arrived at a small beach just as a group of Japanese people were leaving.  They left behind their artwork, four sand balls upon leaves and Canada spelled with rocks.  Later Trevor stepped on one of the balls without realizing it, but he and his sister made some more until there were nine.

I could share more details of our camping trip.  I could tell you about the bearded guy with the happy wrinkles who told me he lost somebody and that he lost his marbles, too, but he had been born with some missing anyway.  Or I could tell you about the people who came to visit us briefly while we were there, but then this would be a longer blog post.  And long blog posts—like long-winded speeches—are too much work, don't you think? 

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