Camp

It's off to the woods with us later today. Some skinny inlet out in the distant reaches of this here Puget Sound is waiting for us and our 4 cylinder turbo all wheel drive sub-pseudo-suv. Not in the least dischordant, I tell you. The crickets will not even bat an eye. The only thing that will feel out of place is the stuff that's already there. I've only been a city boy for a few years now, but already I am forgetting that some trees were not planted by well-meaning committees of do-gooders in matching silk screened t-shirts, posing for the local blog's photo op. It is high time that the child learns this, too. She waters our plants with us ("nee more watuh in Dora wahting can!"), mows the lawn along side me with her little pink bubble mower (the bubble function disabled due to the fact that it was an extremely poorly designed bubble function)("papa mow duh lawn duhmorrow?"), and gets dirty as she should. But aside from a couple of early hiking trips when she was very, very little, she has not yet been given the chance to discern the difference between working at your nature and enjoying it. I will ease the transition for her, using bacon dogs.

Aghast as you may be to hear it, I will not be out there with a laptop or an iPod or an iPhone or an iPad making sure to update the Chronicles for the next couple of days. I will more likely be getting told by the myWife to get out of the herTent because I can't conrtrol the myFarts. It's all meat and beer, kids, and I am not ashamed.

One of my most anticipated events: watching the dog go absolutely bonkers when we get out there. She hasn't had a chance to run free for a long time.