The Camping Summation

Yes.  This is my THIRD post today.  Excessive, is it not?  Ask me how my house looks. And when is school out for summer?

When?

WHEN?

But we must discuss the most recent camping adventures, don't we?  So, here we are.  Writing the THIRD post for today.

First of all, David got home way later than he had planned on Friday night.  This was stressful because I was in charge of cooking the Friday night dinner for the people.  And the people get cranky when the dinner-preparing-campers arrive at 8:10pm.  Which is exactly when we arrived.  The people also get cranky when they hear I am browning up elk flesh for tacos.

I kid!  I jest!

David's people actually like elk.  The odd species that they are.

When we pulled up, I noticed a horrific smell in our camp trailer.  The dogs, Tank and Miley, who were riding in the trailer, must have gotten trailer-sick because there was doggie diarrhea all over the couches of the trailer.  Yes.  That's right.  DIARRHEA.  Be jealous of my glamorous life.  So, I was about to explode, but my darling girls got right to work on cleaning up the poo-poo, so I could prepare the elk flesh.

Holla, girls!  Holla!

On Saturday, a hike was planned.  And we can't just "hike", per say.  No.  We must drive many miles to the top of a mountain hike to a secret, hidden mountain lake.  Because hiking on the trail located right at our camp site would be very un-Maliblahblah like.

So, we drove and drove and drove and this is what we saw when we arrived:

No.  That is not a dirt rainbow left by dirty windshield wipers.  Why do you ask?

Anyways, that was the road to get us to the trailhead.  So, we would still have to take that road for another mile.  Amy and I went to the little ladies room, or outhouse as they are more commonly known, certain that we would be turning around and going home.  You know . . . since no one was dressed for the frozen tundra and the last hiker came out on cross-country skis.

But, no.  While we were taking care of business, the "others" decided we were going to try for it.

Can anyone guess what happened next?

One of the trucks got stuck.

So, David, who was driving the not-stuck truck, gets to pull the other truck out.  This, my friends, is David's life purpose.

Just look at that face.

That is the happiest I have seen him ALL YEAR.

After a 30 minute ordeal that may or may not have ended in someone's smashed bumper, we made it out and decided to ditch the whole hiking idea.

We went to a teeny-tiny town and ate our lunches.

It was so cold and windy that day.  David, or should I say Mr. Chivalrous, let me wear his heavy-duty jacket.

Small town also had a awesome museum and it was F-R-E-E.  I took this photo for you.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who knows why THAT tree is important.

Come on, you tens of regular readers.  I know you can do it!

Later that night, a few of us went on a hike/bike ride.

Handsome Dude, Daisy Mae, and my niece.

Look at Handsome Dude's glasses!  Still in one piece!  Bam!

The next day, there was another bike adventure.  There was a boy team and a girl team.

I offered to take Team Toddler.

Can you guess which team lost?

Go on.  Guess.

A big, fat braid.

You would not believe how much food prep I should be doing instead of sitting in front of the computer.  Its slothful, that what it is.

We are camping, yes we are.  And I am in no mood to deal with all that needs to be done.  This is the first camping trip of the year with the Maliblahblah side of the family.  These camping trips can be a bit more, oh, what's the word . . . active?

I am already too tired to go.  Perhaps I will get sick within the next few hours and will have to stay in bed and read.  Which would be devastating.

The kids are SO excited.  I think Little Dude is going to explode.  Last night, he insisted on putting his blankets and pillows in the:

"Tramp Tray-wer!"

And that would be camp trailer, for all of you who don't speak "Little Dude."  I told him "no" and this resulted in:

The Complete Meltdown of 2012

Me:  Buddy.  You are sleeping at home tonight.

LD:  NO!  NO!  NO!

Me:  Yes, yes, yes.

LD:  MMMMOOOOOMMMMM!  I need them!  I NEED them!  NO!  NO!  NO!

Me:  But you aren't camping until TOMORROW, dude!

This news was just more than his little heart could bear and resulted in him laying prostrate on the ground, wailing for all the injustice his mother brings upon him.  And I almost wrote "prostate" and that would just change EVERYTHING, now wouldn't it?  It's a good thing I didn't.

In other exciting news, we are now incubating eggs.

Right on my kitchen counter.

I never intended to be this weird, honestly folks.  I mean who grows LIVE CHICKENS on their kitchen counter?

Me.

That's who.

Next up, its long denim jumpers and socks with Birkenstocks for me.  And as soon as I learn to braid my own hair (which will be never), I'll be donning a fat braid down my back.  Because this is just where my life is headed.

But the day you hear of me getting all handsome with my farm animals and hugging and kissing on them, then please, send help.

Let's do a COW!  Because what is life without consistency?

COW stands for Comment of the Week.  And I always remember to do it every week.

This week goes to Christi with her comment on the post Trashbag!

Lol, trashbag. Well at least he is a little fella. My mom does that. My pastor calls it chasing rabbits. My mom telling a story about a book. “There was this guy and girl and they had met at this store, (it wasnt a big store, just a small store, you know like one that I used to take you too when you were small, and oh remember that guy that worked there, he is dead now, oh you know who else died, our neighbors dog, poor guy he misses her, I miss my dog, you remember that dog, he was reddish, about the same color as your favorite dress, oh yeah you know the one you wore to church that one time, oh wait that was your cousin, anyway…)what was I talking about.

Oh my goodness.  I have someone in my life who does this, yes, yes I do.  But I won't say who.  No, no, I won't.

It is time.  I must face all that raw meat now.  It just gives me the pee-pee shivers.  Oh, and I have to cook bacon.  BACON!  I hate cooking bacon.

I hate meat, in general.

So, dear readers.  Tell me,

1)  Do you know how to cook bacon?  Because I sure don't.

2)  Would you like to come deal with the raw chicken and raw elk flesh for me today?  I can sit in bed and read?  Sounds fair.

3)  Have you ever grown live chickens on your kitchen counter?  Don't lie, now.

4)  Can you braid your own hair?  Will you teach me?

5)  What are your plans for the weekend?

Happy Weekend!

Pepper Spray and Sand Castles

Welcome to the second half of my camping recap.  To catch up, click here.

***

When we go camping, we don't always stay in a campground.  In fact, we would prefer not to.  But for this trip we did stay at one and the campground put on little events in the evenings that the kids enjoyed going to.  One such event was called "Birds at the Lake."  The leader was from Portugal and had a slight language barrier, but he did a great job and it was very fun and entertaining.

I shall call him Raul.

Simply for the fact that Raul is a fantastic name.  Of which I am not certain I am spelling right. 

I think Raul may have transposed the letters in "Oh" . . .

thoughts?

He had about 3 or 4 songs with the word "ho" in it!  Too funny.  Or at least I thought it was funny.

He shared with us all sorts of fun bird facts, with a sprinkling here and there about bears.

And now, dear readers, I would like to present to you:

Raul's Bear Story.

Raul:  I went to state park south of here.  I was walking and bird watching when I noticed movement in bush.  I was not scared.  I had my pepper spray.  You know, seasoning?  And that is my bear story.

Alrighty then.

He would throw out granola bars to the children who answered his questions correctly.  Of course, my children are brilliant, so they received several delicious snacks.

Plus, they had grandparents whispering the correct answers into their ears.

***

On Saturday, after the rock sliding fun-

We had to put our jeans back over our wet swimsuits (classy!) and go back for more huckleberry pickin' fun!

My in-laws are intense with the berries, are they not?

I don't know about you, but this just screams "bear attack!"

And I didn't even have pepper spray on me.  Nor the seasoning.

This is my husband.  Picking berries.  Singing a song he made up himself:

"More berries, more berries!  More berries, more-more berries!"

Bet you didn't know he was such a jolly fellow!

It is just because of the berries.  I repeat, he just loves those stupid berries.

The observant reader might notice that The Lumberjack and I have a minimal amount of berries in our bucket.

That, dear readers, is the joy of huckleberry picking.

Hours upon wretched hours and you pick 2 Tablespoons.

I.

Loathe.

It.

Group Photo:  Post rockslide-mid Huckleberry pick-Pre hike home Edition

These people are relentless, are they not?

I would like to report that after 2 days of picking, The Lumberjack and I gathered 3/4 of a gallon.

I will pause while you applaud our awesomeness.

***

Finally, we got to return to the beach.

Alex, in the spirit of Alex, decided to start a sand castle competition.

Don't worry.  Holly is right there keeping a watchful eye on him to make sure he doesn't do anything too crazy.

Hey, Holly!  Where was your watchful eye when this atrocity occurred?

Alright.  Back to the Sand Castles.

This is the team against Alex.

He seems a tad outnumbered, no?

Team "Everyone but Alex" sent Daisy Mae over as a spy to inquire of Alex his secrets.

Team Alex remained steadfast and told her to bug off.

There he is with his pride and joy.

Then Team "Everyone but Alex"  sent Baby-Zilla over to destroy it.

Team "Everyone but Alex" 's final product.

Since the sand castle fun had run its course, Alex needed something else to do.

So he decided to torture my boy.

My poor baby.

I fear he doesn't adapt well to his Uncle's crazy antics.

So, I did what any nice mom would do.

Fed him some chips and wrapped up in a towel.

Please notice Alex in the background . . . attacking the next helpless child.

Happy Wednesday!

Darn this Blog.

Salutations!

This is my camping recap that I know you are all dying to read.

Special "thank-you-shout-out" to my super cool bro-in-law, Jason, for sending me the picture necessary to complete this post.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess which picture Jason sent me.

Hint:  I find it to be the funniest.

Are you ready?

Hold on to your pants, folks.  We've got a lot of ground to cover.

***

We arrived Friday night and set up camp.  Lumberjill hates setting up camp.  Lumberjill talked Lumberjack out of setting up his giant parachute. 

Remember the parachute?

 Lumberjack was sad.  But Lumberjill found it quite unnecessary seeing as there would absolutely be no rain and our campsite had several trees that provided ample shade.

We had a delightful dinner prepared by yours truly.  I made Chicken Taco Salad and Cornbread. 

Holla!

We then sat around the campfire talking about jolly good times and the days of yore until MIDNIGHT and then we went to bed.

I would like to inform you that my boys alternatively woke up at 1:30am, 3am, 4:15am, 6am, 6:02am, 6:05am, and 6:15, for no other reason than to make you feel badly for me.

***

Day 2

Huckleberry Picking.

(groan)

I.  Hate. Huckle. Berry. Picking.

Why?

Because you have to drive up windy, mountain roads to try to find the stupid berries, teeter on the side of a mountain while bushes scratch at your delicate legs, fear for your childrens' lives as they keep falling down the side of the mountain, and fear that a bear might get perturbed that you are taking their berries and come eat you.

You pick berries for 5 hours and you come home with a harvest of 1 cup.

You know what you do with 1 cup of berries?

You put it in the freezer and then you have to go back for more joyous picking so you can attempt to get a gallon.  Then you roll your eyes at your husband all year long as he can never decide which food items are "huckleberry" worthy, so they sit in your freezer getting freezer-burned because everyone is too afraid to consume them.

That is why I hate huckleberry picking.

Plus its boring.

Nevertheless, I have married into the strangest family known to man and they live for this sort of thing.  We piled up into our "rigs" and head up the mountains in search of those tiny berries that bring me so much grief.

My in-laws are quite strategic about this process.

David (LJ) and Alex.

Looking a little "matchy-matchy" there, aren't you boys?

You may ask, "Taylor.  What is your husband doing?"

More on that ridiculousness later.

David:  Hey, Alex!  Did you bring your gray Carhartts?

Alex:  Of course I did, Bro!

David:  Did you bring your white t-shirt?

Alex:  You know it!

David:  Let's wear them for huckleberry picking!

Alex:  Sounds good, big bro!

David:  Did you know that I have the most wonderful wife in the world?

Alex:  Yes.  You are truly a lucky guy.

My Ma-in-Law and Daisy Mae, searching for berries.

There's my Lumberjack in all his Tom Foolery again.

He's trying to relay to us in his "secret-code" that he sees deer tracks.

Daisy Mae showing off the bounty.

Disappointing, is it not?

After about an hour of searching, my in-laws are feeling discouraged and dismayed.

The Tribal Council meets to determine our next strategic step.

Notice how I am not a part of this Tribal Council.

This is because:

A)  I am not blood.

B)  I could care less.

C)  I loathe huckleberry picking.

D)  I am too lazy to get out of the car.

Do you see that girl in the black?

She's an imposter.

That is Alex's girlfriend, Holly.

She is not blood.

Look at her trying to show me up by feigning to care about those trivial berries.

Boo, Holly.

Boo.

But, really.  I heart Holly.

Sadly (not), we were unable to locate an ample huckleberry harvest, so we went back to camp.

GoshDarnIt.

***

And now, a few, random pictures.

Sweet baby and her daddy.

Do you see that look?

I fear I see that look often.

Do you see that boy?

The one laying flat in the dirt?

Whose boy is that?

Certainly not mine.

Ok.

He is mine.

I am just going to try to con his father into cleaning him up.

Now, Jason has just recently moved to far, far, away.

My girls did not take this news well.

Me:  Jason is moving.

Sweet Pea:  What?  Why?

Me:  So he can live in the same state as Amy.

Sweet Pea:  Doesn't Jason know that family is much more important than a girlfriend?

Luckily for my girls, we will still see Jason, along with Amy, quite often.

Hooray for Uncles!

Hooray for Uncles who humor little girls like Daisy Mae and listen to them prattle on and on about who knows what.

Can we not all agree that Daisy Mae's dimples are uber precious?

And hooray for the girlfriends of uncles who agree to be penpals with little girls who will plan on writing letters daily.

Have fun, Amy!

***

Next, we floated the river.

This goes on for hours and I can't bring a camera.

So.

Hmmmm . . .

Well, Jason jumped off a bridge and cut his foot.  Then, he ripped the toenail off of his other foot.  We suspect he did all of this so he could get doctored up by Nurse Amy.

So, that's about all that happened on the river float.

When we were done floating, Alex and David decided that they just had to have an ice cream cone at a convenience store nearby.  David walked in and was immediately kicked out because he was not wearing a shirt.

Apparently the convenience store clerk is not interested in attending the "gun show."

Did this deter those boys from getting their ice cream?

No.

No, it did not.

Alex stole a puffy vest from Daisy Mae . . .

Apparently the convenience store clerk found that ensemble acceptable.

***

This post is long.

My apologies.

Are you still here?  Hello?  Hello?

Ok.  So, then we celebrated Jason's birthday:

Happy Birthday, Jason!

Please, Mom.

Enough with the pictures.

***

Before I sign off, I wanted to share with you a campfire discussion between my father-in-law and I.

Father-in-Law (FIL):  Taylor.  Do you still write that "Wife of a Lumberjack" Facebook Internet Story Thing?

He is referring to my blog.  Of which he does not read.  Because he knoweth not where to find it in the tricky web world.

Me:  Yes.

FIL:  Remember that contest it was in a while back?

Me:  Yes.

FIL:  How many votes did your blog receive?

Me:  I'm not sure.

FIL:  Well, I told our friends you won.  I guessed you received about a hundred thousand votes.

Me:  Oh, no.

FIL:  Actually, I believe I said, "Hundreds of Thousands of Votes"

Me:  Definitely not.

FIL:  Really?  That's surprising.

Me:  Yeah.  My blog doesn't get that many hits.  Ever.

FIL:  Hmm  . . . Are you sure?  I thought it was bigger than that.

*awkward silence*

Me:  Nope.

FIL:  Hmmm.

***

Darn this blog.

Darn its' embarassment.

Darn it all.

Happy Thursday!