The Way We Were Made to Live

Went camping yesterday. It was the kids' first trip. 28 degree low overnight. Trial by fire, Palmers always say. OJT, as Pop says.


The leaves were completely at peak, and gorgeous. We went with some friends from the old neighborhood, and some of their friends, whom we had not met before, but they were all awesome. All of our kids were about the same age. 8 kids. Not bad odds for Rollie, as he and the youngest, Vince, were the only boys. The kids had pretty much free rein through the campground, as we were the only people there. Cooper Creek runs right across the Forest Road from the campsite, and the kids enjoyed racing leaves and skipping stones (or just plopping them in).

Wood was plentiful, and there were so many of us, that the firewood gathering was a cinch. Also, men like to break things and chop things and burn things, and women are smart enough to let the men knock themselves out doing it, while the women pour themselves a stiff one.

Most of the adults took the kids on a hike to a nearby waterfall, while Debbie and I kept the home fire burning. This consists of occasionally putting a log on the fire, then pouring oneself a little bourbon and reading a book while sitting by the fire. The kids' hike is what is referred to in parenting circles as "wearing their asses out."

One of the dads brought a leftover Dora the Explorer pinata, and hung it in the woods, then took the kids on an adventure, and they found it in the woods. Much excitement was had by all, despite the fact that a Dora hanging in the woods out of nowhere is a little creepy and Blair Witch Project-ish.

After getting all the candy out of it, the Dora was still in one piece, so the dad and i hung back to whack the shit out of Dora with a large branch until only her head was left hanging. We did this for every parent who has had "We're going on a berry hunt, gonna pick some juicy ones" stuck in their head for two weeks straight. You do not have to thank us. We enjoyed doing it. Possibly a little too much.


The hike and pinata were followed by stuffing their bellies with all kinds of junk food, preservatives, and cancer-inducing nitrate-filled meats on a stick, then topping them off with smores until their little bellies distend, and their eyes glaze over.

With so many parents to watch over the little ones, I got a few minutes alone on both days. Quint and I hiked halfway up the ridge by the campsite until he started looking at me like I was crazy. He is eight and arthritic and grumpy, and I love him, so I stopped. Also? I might be able to run 12 miles, but hiking uses all sorts of muscles I am not used to working out. I am sore today.

Getting kids into pjs, warm, into sleeping bags, and asleep in tents is not the easiest thing in the world, but once we got them calmed down, everyone's kids crashed out. When the sun went down, we had the pleasure of hearing a bunch of owls. Sitting around the campfire is always fun, and we had a Waxing Gibbous moon overhead, so one could walk around and pee without a flashlight. The stars were out, as it was cold and clear. I forget that living in the city is like having a mesh screen over me when i look at the sky, that i am only seeing a small part of it's mesmerizing tapestry. They were beautiful, the owls were beautiful, the leaves were beautiful, the sound of the wind in the trees was beautiful, the sound of the creek running was beautiful, and seeing my kids run around in the woods was beautiful.

Sleeping in the tent when it goes down to 28 degrees is not so beautiful, but was survivable. Tiller and I snuggled together in the tent (Todd and Rollie were in the next one) and she really slept, while I spent most of the night, worrying that she was going to keep kicking off her sleeping bag, and dozing fitfully while Quint did smaller and smaller donuts at the end of tiller's feet. I was so happy to cuddle in with that smelly, stinky love of a dog. According to Todd, Rollie spent the entire night mummified in his own bag, without even his head sticking out. Smart kid, that one. I had to get up in the middle of the night and pee, and it was pretty much the worst pee ever. I thought for sure Quint would freak out and have to follow me, but it was too cold for even him, and when I climbed back in the tent, the little sneak had crawled up into the head of my bag and curled up, his head right next to Tiller's. At least he had the honor to look a little guilty when I came back in, but when i told him to move, he growled at me. I then got tickled, wondering if anyone else heard Quint growling and wondered if there was a wild animal in the camp.


I never did get much sleep, and i wasn't cold enough to freeze to death, but it was cold enough to not be comfortable and wish for morning. It was still better than the rainy night I spent in Joyce Kilmer with Zach and Scott, when Scott slept fitfully and did that weird half-dreaming, half-awake thing and he dreamt that a bear was attacking the tent and actually cried out in his sleep, scaring the bejeesus out of us all - It still makes me laugh to think about the warbling fearful moan that woke me that night; That was by far the most miserable camping trip in the history of the world, even worse than the windy and rainy LSD camping trip in college.

This was not like that at all, though. it was fun, and mostly relaxing, and it made me yearn for the outdoors, as I always do. I often think that the way we live today is not the way we were made to live.

Oh, and not one kid asked for the tv the whole time we were there.

Road Trip! Ronnie! LeatherFace!

My sister Lisa came to pick up the kids this morning. She and Mark took them to the Georgia Aquarium. Todd and I went to his office, picked up the Ryder Van and Ronald McDonald, and hit the road for Orlando. Yes, I said "Ronald McDonald." (I call him Ronnie. We are on first name terms after riding from Atlanta to Orlando all day. He likes classic rock.) He is starring in a shoot that Todd is working on in Orlando. Ronnie cost $10,000 to make. Unfortunately, I forgot my cord to upload pictures to the computer, so you will have to wait on pics of Ronnie. Suffice to say that his fucking clown feet are huge, and I got a little scared when the sun went down and it was just Todd, Ronnie, and me in the van.

Other gems of wisdom obtained by riding in a van for 9 hours with my hung over husband (Advertising Awards - who knew those addies were so wild?) and Ronnie:

• Mrs. Winner's biscuits are awesome, but the ones at Cracker Barrel are better. That being said, if you eat both, along with mac and cheese, fried okra, mashed potatoes and fried shrimp, you will feel sick. Especially while bumping along crappy roads in north central Florida.
• When choosing a ten cent peppermint stick at Cracker Barrel, just choose Butterscotch flavor. Other good flavors include: Cherry Cola, Strawberry, etc. Do not choose "Horehound" flavor, simply because it sounds like a good fit. You will spend the next forty minutes eating a stick of candy that you do not find that appetizing, and regretting your faulty choice while your husband sucks merrily away on his butterscotch one.
• Radio stations from about Macon, GA to Orlando suck ass, with the exception of the University of Florida station, which played Fugazi's "Suggestion," but neglected to play the next track, "Glue Man," which sucks for anyone who really likes the album, because it just ruins it when the tracks split. We then drove out of their piddly range. U of Florida itself, and the greater Gainesville area, also suck ass.
• The other exception to the radio rule is the awesome bluegrass show with a local doing the dj thing and giving shoutouts to the regular listeners, who are all named Mac or Bud or Bubba. "Wabash Cannonball" at sunset was rather nice. Also the song about letting the racehorse run.
• Another radio rule: If you come across a song you even remotely like, for instance, "I Just Called to Say I Love You," or ELO's "Don't Bring Me Down," just go ahead and go with it, because it is the best you are going to do for, like, an hour. You will spend the next ten minutes just scanning through the GodRock, scripture-readers, scary-talk, and new country stations. If you find a classic rock station, just leave the dial the fuck alone. If you, like us, manage to get a run of Van Halen, Pink Floyd, Neil Young, CCR, and Tom Petty with Stevie Nicks, count yourself lucky. BTW, that whole intro to Van Halen's cover of "You Really Got Me" is fucking awesome.
• Don't be alarmed when you enter Florida and are greeted by the Shoot First, Ask Questions Later signs. Or the "Repent Sinners!" signs. Or when you are cast in shadow by the frighteningly large Confederate battle flag by the highway. The people are so nice, despite the fact that they try to scare you with their flags and guns and bibles and gators.

Okay, so we get to the hotel (Doubletree Orlando, across the street from Universal.) We go in, get a bellhop/valet guy to help me with the bags while Todd secures van and Ronnie. I start talking to the guy - turns out it has been a wild weekend. There is a TNA wrestling event going on tonight and tomorrow night. I didn't know anything about this, but according to my awesome bartender Tony, they do it once a month at Universal, and everyone is totally cool, and a lot of the women are really skinny and have implants. I am so excited about my people-watching tomorrow.

That being said, the people-watching tonight wasn't too bad. I didn't see R2D2, as we missed him by about five minutes at the hotel bar, but I did get to see LeatherFace from the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and also the artist who did all of the KISS album covers. Awesome. Oh, and some gray-haired old guy who is in a Geicko commercial - Peter Graves, maybe? Other people who were at this nerd orgy: http://www.fxshow.com/guests.htm

More to come from the Starbucks downstairs in the morning. Will have camera and laptop in hand. Come on, hot guy from Eureka! Or The Greatest American Hero!