I'm back (hopefully), and gonna try to get all routine about keeping updated. I'd forgotten that I need this place as an external brain (heh. I just typo-ed "ETERNAL" brain. Talk about Freudian slip?), and last night, Kelly was saying "You remember when I lost my first tooth, what was that game the boys were playing with the pillows, and I got hit in the face?" and I said "oh! I wrote that down!" (now, anyone listening in would think that I keep up on the baby books, but they'd be mistaken. )
Sure enough. A little troll through the archives, pulls up a fabulous gem about her missing first tooth, and the boys' game of "Demolition".
Demolition. Ah, how I love my external brain.
Anyways. I realize that my external brain doesn't work if I don't actually, you know, put stuff INTO it.
And I'd meant to write about the Last Fling of Summer.
When last we'd left the intrepid campers, Kemma (that would be me) and her friend (let's call her Chris) were chaperoning a gaggle of almost-seventh-graders on a wind-swept foggy bluff, camping next door to a bunch of drunken yahoos who didn't stop whooping it up until their third bottle of Jim Beam was empty, and discarded in the bushes between their campsites.
Quiet hours started at 10pm, and ended at 8am.
You can be sure that I wasn't too particularly careful about being all tip-toe-ish when I got up at 7am, then.
Oh, I wasn't yodeling, or anything. But it's not a crime to whistle while you work. Or to come up with a little improv in the middle of little whistle-riffs. (I'm particularly fond of my vocal rendition of this gem... (which I have had zero luck managing to figure out how to embed)
Of course, I did the very passive-aggressive thing of loudly whispering at the girls to "be quiet in the tent - you can make noise once the Quiet Hours are finished at 8 o'clock!" while I was helping to get breakfast ready.
Shortly after 8am, the girls emerged from their tent into the damp foggy morning to have breakfast.
I had tried to make a fire, but it was a pretty abject failure compared to the one the night before. But it smoked a lot, and made a bit of heat, which was what the girls were desperate for. I couldn't believe how cold it got there. Brrr! Next time, I'm bringing more layers. (and not leaving ANYTHING outside over night. everything we left out was completely soaked with fog/dew in the morning)
After a quick-ish breakfast of pancakes, strawberries and bacon (yum!), we broke camp, and took a vote on what to do with our morning. Ken had taken Nate with him to work (hooray, he got to use the carpool lane!), so I didn't have too much pressure to get home asap.
The birthday girls' mom was thinking about taking the girls to the Mystery Spot in Santa Cruz, but that idea was getting a lukewarm response. Then someone said "Maybe we could go to the boardwalk?" and cheers erupted.
(at this point, or nearabouts, a liquor-soaked voice wafted over the bushes "*F%R (*#$ Do you know what time it is?" and I happily called back "About nine thirty". Ah, it was sweet.)
It was important to shake off all the wet from the tents. They were COVERED in water, and shaking off the flies was like watching a dog coming out of a lake.
And then, as the final loads were being sherpa'ed to the vans, we did our good camping civic duty, and made sure our fire was out.
Next stop... Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk!
It was a great way to say goodbye to summer.
.....and then we came home, and Kelly broke her arm in the first practice of the basketball season.
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