Well, this weekend was pretty mundane, actually. Not a lot happened. Really, nothing much to blog about.
Unless you count the camping.
In a tent.
With four kids.
With neither cots nor air mattresses.
Thank goodness the Ranger Station was a fairly short walk up the hill.
Thank goodness the Ranger Station had running water, toilets, showers, and a full kitchen. Not to mention a comfortable couch and my old bedroom.
Yeah, we camped in my parent’s wooded back yard and, in case you just didn’t get it, the Ranger Station would be their house. Actually, my sister and her husband live right next door and own the other half of the woods, so we were pretty set if need be.
And need did be. Umm . . . need was? Anyway, the ground was hard and lumpy and my body, now accustomed to my visco-elastic, space-age memory foam mattress topper didn’t like it. So by 2 a.m. I was trudging up the hill to sleep in the house. And sleep I did. Except for when the radio was waking me up.
It wasn’t the regular radio. It was an emergency radio. Oh, what is the technical name for it? Not one of those weather alert radios, but the kind that the police, fire, EMS and journalists have. The police, fire and EMS folks have them so that they can go help people in distress. The journalist have them so they know where the big fires and local shootings are, so they can race the police, fire and EMS folks to the scene and get there before the tape goes up. Better photos and video that way.
I’m only partly kidding about that last part.
Anyway, any time there is an emergency these radios drop tones (beep loudly and on different notes). The worse the emergency is, the more tones they drop.
No sooner had I snuggled down onto some real softness and began drifting off to much-needed sleep than somebody drove a truck through a house. That radio started dropping tones like a drunken bell choir.
Later they needed an EMS team to respond to the home of a woman with a suspected broken rib. At like 3:30 a.m. Not as many tones for that one, so I didn’t fully wake up. I just woke up enough to wonder what drunk went home and beat his wife. I know — horrible conclusion to jump to, right?!? I mean, when I was fully awake the next morning I realized that it is just as likely that she was drunk herself and fell down the stairs. Anyway . . .
So you may be wondering why my parents have one of those radios in their home. No, they are not police, fire, nor EMS. They are also not journalists. The fact that I did not jump out of bed and race to the scene of the truck in the house tells me that I am really no longer a journalist either. *Sigh* (both good and bad). However, as the Town SelectWoman of Cooterville, my mother is kind of in charge of overseeing the local fire and EMS. She just likes to keep tabs on what’s going on.
Anyway, the kids all had a blast camping. And here’s a tip for the next time you camp: slice open a banana, leave it in the peel, stuff it with chocolate, marshmallows and coconut, close it, wrap it in tinfoil, throw it in the hot coals for about 5 minutes and then enjoy. It is almost better than s’mores. Almost.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.