Camping

Well, clearly I survived. We had an experienced camper pitch our tent with us, so we stayed warm and dry. Which is important, because when you lie awake all night, you want to make sure you aren't miserable in any other way.

It wasn't too bad. It rained during the day, then cleared for the evening activities. It started raining again some time in the middle of the night, but I couldn't say when or for how long. Our tent had more water on it this morning than any other in our group, so maybe it just rained on us.

I bunked with Daniel - he loved it. He didn't sleep well either, but better than me. We had to make one middle-of-the-night trip to the john, but otherwise, he didn't have any problems. Ben slept in tents with his patrol group. They cooked their own food, which was highly entertaining to watch. Daniel and I ate sandwiches and pretzels and other low-maintenance items.

There was a program Saturday night that included some Native American dancing. One guy performed and they mentioned that it was his first time ever dancing on stage in front of a big group. Sadly, some yokel in the vicinity of the fair grounds decided to host his own fireworks display right in the middle of this guy's performance. Imagine a bunch of young boys given the choice between watching some guy dancing or watching fireworks. You guessed it - I felt bad for the dancer. But then some guy did what they call a "hoop dance" which held everyone's attention - really, really amazing stuff.

Following the Native Americans, we had a local group of re-enacters come tell us about kicking the British's butts on King's Mountain. They demonstrated a gun ceremony that ended with them firing off their muscats and rifles and whatnot - there were six guys and the last guy misfired - it sounded something like this: "KABLAM! KABLAM! KABLAM! KABLAM! KABLAM! poof."

We got up early this morning and watched the troop clean up the camp site and pack for home. Parents were not allowed to help. It was surreal.

Home again now. We're all showered and clean now.

Good times.

Fun at Scout Expo

Some highlights of our day. The tennis ball sling shot was our troop's contribution to the Expo - it was by far the most popular. You can't see the balls, but the first one hits the roof, and the second one clears it. Ben also worked on his Toten Chip requirements. Good times.

Nope - Nothin' Here But This Old Tire

A Portent of Posts to Come

Today is Scout Expo Day in the Tri-Cities. Which means, we all drive to the fair grounds and sleep on the ground.

Well, more specifically, we "camp-out". Mark is leaving first thing tomorrow morning for his annual "Managers Gone Wild" golf trip to Santee, which leaves me as the available parent. Ben is now a Boy Scout, and he does not have to have a parent with him. But Cub Scouts need a parent with them, and Daniel is a Cub Scout. And so I'm going to sleep on the ground.

I think it might be fun actually. I have had three camping experiences in my life. The first: way too cold. The second: way too rainy. And the third: no real problems. Jennifer and Heather and me. Heather stepped into mud up to her thigh at one point, but that's all I really remember. And we "camped" last summer at Camp Davy Crockett, but that was in ready-made tents with cots and cicadas. LOTS of cicadas.

So stay tuned....pictures and debriefings will likely follow in the days to come.

Mark's New Nickname

I am the treasurer for our Cub Scout pack. Last week, Mark took Daniel's den on a bowling outing, so I cut him a check to reimburse him. The pack's checks say "Webelos Scouts" as the name, and then have our pack leader's address underneath.

We go by the bank today to deposit the check, and when the girl at the window sent our receipt back to us, she said "Thank you, Mr. Scouts."

I just call him Webelos.

What I'm Reading Now

Wish You Well, by David Baldacci. This is an older one, although not as old as I thought it was - it was published in 2000. I found it in a stack of books loaned to me by a lady I go to church with - she gives me bags of books at a time, and I am trying to work through them so I can start returning.

I haven't read much of Baldacci's other stuff - I read The Lottery (I think it's called The Lottery - it's about the lottery) and I listened to Saving Faith on tape on a road trip. I liked them both fairly well, but I think this is a "departure" book. Grisham did the same thing at about the same time - The Painted House was his departure from his legal thrillers. Oddly enough, I have never really liked Grisham's books, except for A Time to Kill, but I loved The Painted House. Go figure.

Wish You Well is set in southwest Virginia, which is a plus for me, and is good so far - but I'm only fifty or so pages in. Too soon to tell.

Weekend Update

We kicked off our weekend with a ball game. Our own Bolton Block was tied for first place with the boys (and one girl) of Ferguson. Winner would be the undisputed first place team of the National League.

Little League games go six innings, or two hours, whichever comes first. We started the game at 7:30. Ten innings later, we left the ball field just after 11:00. It was a SLUGFEST. Literally. One of our twelve-year-olds hit a two-run homer, the likes of which I've never seen before. It's 208 feet to the center field fence. The ball cleared the fence in about a quarter of a second. Past the fence, there's a grassy area, probably another twenty-thirty feet. Then there's a road, then there's a little white house with a fence around it. I don't know exactly where the ball came down, but the seventeen kids that chased it down went across the street, and had to scale two fences in the little white house's yard to get it. Wow. Anywho, this moonshot tied the game in the bottom of the sixth. Another two-run homer in the bottom of the tenth won it for us. Ben was in a slump at the plate, but he did make a key out late in the game.

The Bad Boys of Bolton Block are now in first place. Go us!

We slept in Saturday morning, ran some basic errands (it's tax-free weekend in Tennessee!), and enjoyed some down time.

On Saturday afternoon, we headed back to the ballpark for a 32-9 shellacking of the last place team. Ben came out of his slump with a great hit into right field. It's no fun beating a team that badly, but we were there last year, so it all evens out.

Saturday night, I tried a new pork chop recipe (probably not a repeater) and we played Shadows Over Camelot.

Today is youth Sunday. The boys will be singing with the KFC, and the older kids will be running the show. Scary.

If the weather holds, the KFC has an end-of-year fiesta at one of the cooler parks in the area. Should be good times. Mark will be hitting the links.

The Continuing Saga of the Sausage and Pancake on a Stick

Daniel has a new breakfast favorite: sausage and pancake on a stick. It is a Jimmy Dean creation, and reportedly tastes a lot like a McGriddle, without the syrup pockets.

One evening as Daniel was readying himself for bed, we were discussing the lengthy name associated with this breakfast treat, and pondering options for a shorter name, a "nickname", if you will. After much thoughtful deliberation, we landed on the name "SAPAS". Sausage And Pancake on A Stick. Perfect.

The next morning, I hear Mark and Daniel in the kitchen. "Faststick," I hear Mark say. "That's what you should call it. Like Breakfast, but without the break. Just fast. Fast Stick."

Now, imagine with me if you will, one of those moments on Lost. One of those moments when you know that one of the characters is about to have a flashback. That sucking sound starts, and the camera begins to zoom in on my eyeball. When it zooms out again, the year is 1997.

I am in a toystore. I find an adorable little stuffed moose. "Perfect for my adorable little son Ben." I buy the moose.

Excitedly, I drive home. This is the toy, I'm thinking. The one he will sneak into his suitcase when he goes to camp because it reminds him of mom. The one that he will look at nostagically as he packs for college because it reminds him of mom. Such a significant toy needs a significant name, I think. What shall we name it? Montgomery Moose? It could work. Alowishus Moose? Might be too hard to spell. I pondered and pondered all the way home. I had great plans for the naming of this moose. The name must be perfect.

I get home. I lovingly present Ben with his gift. As he begins to chew on it, I say "What should we name the moose?" My list of suggestions are about to follow, when I hear Mark say "Bob. Bob Moose. Done."

Zoom back to the present, and we're back on the island. I mean, back in the kitchen. Something deep within me snaps. I whisper "Bob Moose" to myself like some unspeakable swear word. "No!" I yell loudly. "We're calling it a SAPAS. Faststick is a bad, bad name. SAPAS. SAPAS!"

Needless to say, this has continued to spiral downward into an ugly, ugly mess of cruel words and breakfast foods. Mark is staunchly supporting his choice, and I mine. Mark even went so far as to create a mock-up of a Faststick box, in some insane marketing ploy, pictured here:

Daniel, meanwhile, can't figure out what's happened to his otherwise normal parents. Breakfast at our house has become a ticking time bomb. We found a crazy Scottish monk living in our basement, and last week I shot a polar bear in the backyard. Oh no wait, that's another post.

So how about you? SAPAS? Or Faststick?

Gimme Five!

As previously posted, cousin Sam came up to see Daniel join the church. Actually, he stayed in the nursery, but he was on site, at least. Anywho, we had a great visit that afternoon, and his Auntie Charlotte taught him how to give five. (Natalie later said he had done this feat before, just not as enthusiastically.)

Big Day for Daniel

Today was a big day for Daniel - he joined the church! He has been asking lots of spiritual questions in recent months, and a few weeks ago decided he wanted to ask Jesus to come into his heart. He met with our pastor, then met with the Session last Sunday night, and this morning was officially welcomed into the fellowship of the congregation. All four Grandparents were there, and Uncle Paul, Aunt Natalie, and Sam came up as well. It was a really nice service, and we are very, very proud of our young man!

The Infamous Snow Weekend

In a comment on Movie Quotes 2 posted by ferdlings, he references "our infamous snow weekend." I have thought of blogging on that weekend before, and his comment has inspired me.

Many years back - Mark and I were married, but no kids, and Paul had not yet moved back to SC, so I'm going to guess it was 1995 or 1996 - Paul came to stay for a weekend. This was before all this global warming mumbo-jumbo and we really did have bad winters here.

I want to say he came up on a Saturday, because if he came on Friday night, I don't remember what we did. But on Saturday we went to see some movie (Ransom? Apollo 13?) and then had dinner at Ruby Tuesday's. When we came out of the restaurant, there was a good amount of snow on the ground. We figured we might get snowed in, and rented some movies on the way home (or maybe we rented them Friday night - I'm forgetting some of the details.)

Anyway, we rented Aliens and Pulp Fiction, and two other movies whose names escape me for reasons that will be explained later. We watch Aliens. Mark keeps harping about what a funny movie it was, and I'm thinking "I don't remember it being funny". But with the right people, that movie is a scream. "Game over man, game over!" "Well why don't you just put her in charge?" "They mostly come at night. Mostly." We rolled.

And then we put in Pulp Fiction. The VCR made a weird grinding sound. Pulp Fiction would not play, nor did it ever come back out of our VCR. Game over man. Game over.

By Sunday morning, there was two or three feet of snow on the ground. Paul and I walked around the yard, and I remember taking a bad step and getting in snow up to my hip. It really SNOWED. Of course, we had nothing to do, since we didn't have cable, and the VCR was tied up not playing Pulp Fiction. We mostly just looked out the window and commented on how much freakin' snow there was. Mostly.

By Sunday night, Paul's getting worried that he can't get home, and Mark is trying to figure out if we should go to work the next day. So the two of them bundle up like Inuits and say they're going out to see how the main road looks. They seriously spent like twenty minutes putting on layers and scarves and hats just in case they "got stuck somewhere and had to walk back". They backed about two feet down the driveway before Mark veered right and stuck them in our yard. At least they were dressed for the walk back.

We got the in-laws to come get us on Monday for work in the family 4X4. Paul drove home in his Ford Taurus. It took him about ten hours. I was sure he was dead. Mark kept saying "Don't worry. He couldn't get up enough speed to get in a serious accident - worse case he's freezing by the side of the road somewhere." I finally got him on the phone about 10:00 - he had left the heat off and was holed up in a hallway in his apartment reading EW and trying to get warm.

Ah yes. The Infamous Snow Weekend. Remembered much more fondly than the Charlie Peacock fiasco, but that's a blog for another day.

I did finally see Pulp Fiction years later. What a disappointment. What a terrible movie to lose a VCR too. What a bad career choice for Ving Rhames.

Movie Quotes 2

I realize now that my first post of movie quotes left out quite a few of our family's most oft-repeated phrases. (I think I just got to the number ten and decided I must be done.) Anywho, here are some more - some from well-known movies, some from not-so-well-known movies, and some from TV:

1. "Game over man, game over!"
2. "He chose...poorly." (This was the understatement of the year, by the way.)
3. "I just got tortured by a spinal surgeon and a genu-ine I-raqi."
4. "Marla Hooch. What a hitter!"
5. "I, myself...cannot."
6. "I'mlookingformydog. Haveyouseenhim?"
7. "Do NOT go in there!"
8. "Is that a Titleist?"
9. "Sarah Conner?" (We follow this up with "No man, she lives next door.")
10. "I can't believe you're a professional golfer. You should be working at the snack bar."
11. "You can't go! All the plants'll die!"
12. "No, just circular."

How could I have forgotten these gems?

What I'm Reading Now

Whitehorn Woods, by Maeve Binchy.

This is something like her third book since announcing her retirement with Scarlet Feather. And her "post-retirement" books haven't been all that great. But this one, so far, is charming. It is set in a small village in Ireland that has a well in the woods. The well is believed to have mystical powers imparted by St. Ann. So far, in very Binchy-style, it is a collection of vignettes into the lives of the villagers - lots of switching of narrators and changing of perspective. It's a light read, but I'm enjoying it so far.

Binchy's other memorable books include Circle of Friends, Tara Road, Scarlet Feather, The Lilac Bus, The Glass Lake - she's fairly prolific.

Update on Nineteen Minutes - really, really good book. Disturbing, not something I wanted to like, but it was really intriguing. A little unnecessary bit of a twist at the end, but otherwise perfect. She used a lot of events from Columbine, and she even mentioned Columbine several times in the book. It was a good example of how the right combination of events in the right person's life at just the right times can be combustible. Quite thought-provoking.

The Curse of the Jersey

So, I'm sure by now you've heard this story about the Red Sox jersey buried under the new Yankee Stadium. Some Red Sox Nation construction worker buries a Sox jersey while he's working on the stadium site. Like most morons who do crazy things, he can't keep his mouth shut and apparently all the guys on the crew know about it. And them someone talks to someone else who talks to someone in the press, and now the whole world knows that there's a Sox jersey buried in the deep, dark, depths of the new Yankee Stadium. Why do such a thing? A curse, of course! Baseball is all about curses and goats and superstition and what not.

So last night the Yankees have had enough and they pay a bunch of union guys to come in on a Sunday and dig the thing up. Big bucks they're paying (although, I hear payroll isn't so much a big deal for the Yankees.) Turns out it's an Ortiz jersey. Rights have been wronged. Someone will sell it on eBay and life will go on.

Here's the thing: this jersey had to have been buried some weeks, if not months, ago. Big Papi is 3 for 43 so far this season, and even got benched last night for sucking so bad. Who's cursing who here?

My thinking is you dig another hole, put the jersey back, throw in a Ramirez jersey, a Papelbon jersey, a Beckett jersey - maybe even a Ted Williams jersey for good measure - bury them all and then sit back and watch the magic. But hey - that's just me.

Where in TN?

OK, all you Gamecock fans.....where is this tribute to the most hated man in Tennessee?

Answer: On Lonnie Lowe Lane in South Johnson City. Home of the Science Hill High School Hill Toppers.