Let's go now, before I lose my nerve!

The boys are off at overnight camp. And I haven't heard a word. This is what I expected, after all I used to work at this camp and I know that it is only in the most extreme cases that we ever let a camper near a phone to call a parent. And the boys were mostly excited to go. But I could tell they had some nerves. It is quite humorous how their anxiety surfaces in different ways. Theo- he gets hyper. As we made it through the last of our packing before leaving on Sunday, Theo doesn't say much, but he can not control his body. He is everywhere at once- rolling on the bed where his clothes are laid out, between my feet as I try to walk down the hall, bearhugging his brother (who is feeling very prickly). Then there's Eli. In contrast to Theo, Eli becomes very still, except for his mouth. He can't stop talking. Here's a typical monologue from this past Sunday, "Mom, I am so excited, I can't believe we are going to go to overnight camp. I mean, I really want to go, and I know in the daylight I am going to be fine, I am going to be great, but when night falls, and I'm laying in my bed, I am going to be filled with regret! Regret! I will be so anxious and wishing I had never come. And then morning will come and I will be fine. Excited. But then night time again, and regret! Filled with it!" On and on we heard about the cycle of anxiety he predicted for himself. He would follow us around as we hunted down sunscreen, toothpaste, talking a mile a minute, Theo on the ground, grabbing on to Eli's legs, Eli with no time to shake him off, but instead continuing to dog our path, shadowing us, talking, dragging Theo along. And finally Eli yelled out, "Let's go! Now! Before I lose my nerve!" So we piled them into the car, drove out to Hudson, and left them in the care of counselors who looked great- fun and energetic, and possibly 12 years old.

The boys let us go. No begging to stay or gripping of hands. Just little smiles and waves and we were off, my heart breaking a little bit to watch them grow away from me just a bit more. I know that it's necessary and good and healthy, but hard too. Luckily we have a little cheat. My dad volunteers one day a week out at the camp. And he called yesterday after spying on the boys. He reported that he had caught site of both of them. They looked fine. No tears, no obvious distress. And get this- Theo seemed fully dressed, which means that he has not yet lost every last item of clothing that was sent with him. Rodg bet me that Theo would return home with only the clothes on his back- all else would have to be dug out of the lost and found. I took that bet. I think he'll return home with the clothes on his back, plus 4 pair of clean underwear in his bag- meaning the last pair, number five, would have been on his body the entire session- but everything else to be dug from lost and found. Today we find out who wins.

Family reunion

A few weeks back we trundled off to the Dells (Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin is what all the t-shirts say, perhaps to differentiate it from say, Wisconsin Dells, Florida?) to meet up with 32 members of my extended family. I admit my enthusiasm was a bit low. We were to stay at one of the places that has several waterparks, plus a dozen other 'attractions'. I was not attracted. I don't like crowds, busy places, nor being wet but not really in water. But then we got there, we dropped our stuff into our lovely room and then were whisked down the hall for dinner with all of my long lost cousins. And guess what? They are great people. Before we finished eating it felt like I had been hanging out with the cousins for ages, when in truth I had only seen them briefly four years ago, and before that we figured the last meet up was probably when I was about 12 (that trip involved biking 200 miles through the Canadian rockies -sans helmets- and sliding down glaciers in trash bags- a trip to be remembered). After eating we were ushered to our first waterpark. One ride involved going head first down a tube on a foam mat and did necessitate a later visit to my chiropractor, but in all, I enjoyed it. We spent the next 3 days moving from meal to waterpark, to relaxing (with a little oogling of world cup soccer players tossed in), and I thoroughly enjoyed all of it. I know now why the shirts say Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin. It's because there might be places out there trying to pose as the next Dells. Our friend Wally is thinking that their might be a Wisconsin Dells, Dubai, in the works. Like the ski hill in a dome out there in the dessert. Imagine the Dells domed in Dubai. For reality sake, in the summer it would be nice under the dome, but then they could simulate winter- have it all cold and gray outside of the hotels, the outside waterparks crusted over in fake ice- people scurrying from rented minivans to the hotels where they stay inside, moving through skyways to the indoor waterparks like gerbils in a cage.... I think I might become an early investor in this idea. Wisconsin Dells, Dubai. It has a nice ring to it.

Strawberry Picking: Check

We've already crossed off a couple of goals for the summer. The alley raspberry patch is just starting to produce. It's not really harvest-able as yet, but there is enough to put 3-5 on my cereal in the morning. And today we gathered about 15 and split them up to enjoy in our swedish pancakes. They are seriously stunning.

Today we ventured out to a little organic farm down south to do some strawberry picking. The farmer (a transplant from Isreal) warned us that it had been a tough season for the berries. And when we got our heads down between the rows we found he was telling the truth. A good portion of the berries had withered down to moldy pulps. They were quite unappetizing, actually. But with some diligence we were able to find enough lovely red ones to almost fill two ice cream buckets. They are already in the freezer, awaiting my little 8 year old smoothy-meister's whim.

And we almost got to read out on the porch during a crackling storm. Only it missed us. We got the wind and a sprinkle, but nothing more. But now that the front has moved through, the post-storm dusky sky is phenomenal. I don't think I have ever seen such yellow/orange light. I have to quit typing and go soak it up from the front steps.

AmishShowroom.com

On my way home from a lovely strawberry picking session today I drove by a polebarn with a big illustration of an Amish man's head on the side of the building. And then the words "AmishShowroom.com". It cracked me up. I guess I'm behind the times, it appears as if the Amish are hitting the mainstream. When I got home I had to check out the website, and sure enough, there was the same polebarn on the homepage, right above the featured items: media centers for large screen plasma TVs.

Lazy days ahead

It's the last day of school. My boys come home in about 20 minutes! I just realized that we are leaving Ulla's classroom after four fabulous years. Almost made me want to have another kid. Almost. The boys seem excited to be released for the summer, although Eli usually carries a little tinge of sadness as he walks out. We shall see. I have purposely left our summer relatively unplanned. Both boys are going to try out resident camp at St. Croix this year. Yikes. I know what those counselors are up to. I still remember those days. And we will journey up to DuNord once again. The last week of summer I signed them up for DayCroix because I have to be back at work. But the weeks in between will be filled with what I hope to be glorious laziness and the freedom to follow our whims. Here's hoping Theo's whim isn't always to pester his brother. By July, I may be doing some frantic research trying to find last minute diversions so that we don't kill each other. But right now the long stretch of summer days looks idyllic and lovely. Here's my list of hopeful activities:

Geocaching in some hidden unmowed pockets of St. Paul
Strawberry and blueberry picking
A visit to the Pizza Farm
Biking down to the pool
Eating the raspberries from the patch out by the garage every morning
Lots of reading in the hammock
Gardening and farmer's market shopping
Smoothie perfecting
Reading out on the porch while it storms

Mr. T

Before this past weekend, my kids had no idea who Mr. T was, but since stickers of this 80's icon figured prominently in my pal Andrew's prank-filled past, we introduced the boys to old A Team footage via youtube. They were strangely unimpressed. But then John Ott, our houseguest for 24 hours, and Andrew's partner in crime back in the day, secretly plastered our house with these stickers while he was here. We keep finding them as we go through our daily tasks. The boys delight in finding them. There's the one on the back of the phone. On the fridge magnet. The one on the yo-you made Eli guffaw as he was getting ready for school today. And each one that is unearthed brings a little memory of my pal. And I'm glad for it. Even though I can't get Mr. T off my phone. Thank goodness they are only reproductions, and not the originals- those were 'scratch and sniff' and although the one on my phone is the 'bubble gum' version, I think the body odor one is on the fridge. Yes, back in the 80's you could spend money to buy a scratch and sniff sticker that featured Mr. T's body odor. I hear that the originals fetch quite a price on e-bay. If Tina ever finds Andrew's full stash, she could fund Lucy's college with the proceeds.

Sharing stories

This past weekend we had the memorial service out at camp for my pal Andrew. After undertaking a prank in Andrew's honor, we headed to the lodge for a service of sorts, with songs and a few speakers. Ok, so the songs included 'Little Johnny England' and 'Johnny Rebeck's Machine' instead of hymns, and people were handed stickers of Mr. T as they came in, but it was a service nonetheless, and a touching one.

We then adjourned to a campfire where people got up and shared a favorite Andrew memory and then put a stick on the fire. The stories were sad and inspiring and touching and hilarious. Many were prefaced by the line, "I'm a little nervous to tell this with Andrew's parents here" but I watched his parents' faces and I think they were just grateful to become privy to more history of their son who they had lost way too soon. Even if the stories involved farting, or pranks, or showcased Andrew's finetuned skill of pestering people. They were evidence that as Andrew made his way through life he touched people. He influenced them. He made things brighter, more fun, more memorable, for those who walked along with him for a time. I loved the story from his brother who told of the note that came home from a beleaguered high school chemistry teacher. It said, in it's entirety, "Please convince Andrew to be on my side." It's true- to be on Andrew's side was the best place to be- he was a powerful advisary! But he did know how to reach out, how to bring people to his side, he loved to let people into the joke, even if it was on them.

It was hard to find a way to end the campfire, the store of Andrew stories is seemingly bottomless, but after a time Amy got us to sing "Mm-mm I want to linger" and then "Happy Trails" and then we broke up. A group of us went back to the lodge to clean up. Some people slyly stuck Mr. T stickers to secret places around the building, and then we had to figure out what to do with the giant glossy picture of Andrew posing creekside in the Yukon in a pair of boxers and with an impish grin on his face. We ended taking down the old painting of voyaguers over the fireplace in the staff lounge and replacing it with Andrew. I hope the current staff keeps it there for at least awhile. The picture captures Andrew's humor and fun-loving spirit.

And then people went their separate ways. Hopefully we won't have to gather in this manner again until we are all much older. But it was good, and it was necessary, and I have more of Andrew to remember now.

T-boned!

This past weekend while sitting with some old camp friends reminiscing about yesteryear, I mentioned that in my hundreds of miles of canoe tripping, I had never swamped. Beyond that, I have never even been on a trip that involved anyone swamping. This includes camper-sterned runs through some impressive rapids on the Flambeau and Chippewa Rivers. Ok, once, in my mid-20's, brother Pete and I were joshing around dockside at my parent's house up on Lake Sylvan and we managed to tip, but that was because we were halfway trying.

Then, the next day, we loaded up a canoe, a borrowed kayak, and our old camp pal John Ott (he stows real small) and headed out to take on Minnehaha creek. We had just done the same section a week ago with my parents, and we were well aware that the creek was running fast and there were some tight turns. The first hour was fine- fun and fast and full of laughs. Jon was in the kayak and despite not being an avid kayaker, he had it figured out pretty quickly. Eli started in my bow with John O duffing. Eli has become quite responsive to my panicked calls of "Draw! No pry! Wait, draw!!" He seems to know just which manuever I want him to perform and does it quickly and effeciently. But then he traded out and ended up in the kayak with his dad and John O took over in my bow with Theo duffing. We toodled along, laughing away, and at some point I took a quick break to rest for a second. You can not do that on the creek when it is running fast. We quickly ended up sidesaddle to the creek right before heading under a culvert type bridge. A dark, mucky, culvert. My plan was to just continue the turn and drift through the culvert backwards and then readjust on the other side. And it would have worked. IF not for that meddling husband. He was behind us and coming on quickly. He tried to avoid us by paddling hard to move around our stern. Only he was in an unfamiliar kayak, and instead of paddling out of our way, instead he came at us dead-on, at ramming speed. And ram he did. He t-boned us squarely in the middle, right next to Theo. We immediately went over, water rushing over the gunnels and the three of us toppling into the creek. Three things should be noted here:
1. For our entire two hour journey the water was never deeper than a foot or two. Except for right at this place. We couldn't touch! We didn't want to touch! It was a muck fest.
2. Eli started laughing at us BEFORE he had been assured that we were all ok.
3. John O and I, despite being trained professional camp counselors from yesteryear, forgot to do the "I'm OK are you OK?" drill. We did do it later, once back safely into the canoe.

Theo was the only one who kept his head during our murky journey through the culvert. John O and I were hooting with laughter (once causing me to take a gulp of the water. yuck.) and completely incapbable of helping Theo gather our stuff. He was gripping tightly to one gunnel while he yelled 'Our stuff! Our stuff!' and repeatedly shoveled water bottles, life jackets, the cooler back into the swamped canoe. Only problem was that the canoe was under water, so whenever he got one back in and reached for the next, the first thing he saved would float back out.

In the end we drifted in this fashion to the other end of the culvert and then were able to touch the bottom and guide the canoe over to the muddy bank. We grabbed belongings as they drifted by, including Theo, who was still grasping for water bottles.

When Eli, seated safe and dry in the front of his kayak, noted that a water bottle and a squirt gun that we had found and plucked from these very waters just an hour earlier were still heading down stream, he tried to push off in the kayak. Alone. Without a paddle. Jon was able to grab him before he got too far, much to his dismay. Luckily, once we dumped and righted the swamped canoe we were able to catch up to our lost cargo and rescue it from an eventual trip over Minnehaha falls.

In the end, the only casualty were John O's sunglasses. He didn't seem too upset. I paddled the rest of the way soaked to the bone with a faint swampy taste in my mouth, but could not stop laughing. Theo, once all our belongings were accounted for, seemed no worse for the wear. He turned out to be the only one who was proactive under pressure. Swamping is ok if you don't have all your clothes for a week, and your food, and your tent, in your canoe with you. I was kind of hoping that my cell phone would end up dead so I could get a new one, but I had, last minute, put it in a ziplock and popped it into the cooler. Shoot. Next time. Given Eli's delight at our plight, I am quite sure that there will be a next time. He is getting so handy in a canoe, there's no doubt in my mind that he can create a t-boning type situation when he wants to. He'll just make sure any of his precious belongings are in the target vessel first.