The family and I went camping this weekend; the first real sunny set of days we've had in Washington. It's interesting how the kids and I judge a successful weekend. They look for as many things to do as possible and I look for as many ways to avoid work as possible. Sometimes they win, sometimes I win. Seldom do we both come out of a weekend satisfied. This time, thanks to the membership campground that we go to with a pool and a game room and a ball field, the kids got their fill of fun. I got to spend some time writing and burning things (not at the same time.)
There's something strangely therapeutic about a campfire. After I burned up all the used paper plates and cups there was no real purpose to the fire but I kept adding things to it. It was just really peaceful with the kids down at the youth center and me sitting by my fire. You all should try it sometime.
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This may have nothing to do with camping, but upon reading your blog, my brother has been inspired to give his almost-one-year-old daughter a Latin-sounding nickname: Tynissius Fussicus. Emphasis on "cuss".
When we were kids, we named one of Dad's friends "Torch Delaney" regarding his unusual uses for fire, such as setting his lawn ablaze so it would be greener when it grew back. Flames, wind, neighbor's field. 'Nuff said.
Addendum: Our own father "defrosted" the windshield with a blowtorch. Heat and rubber seals make a bad combination.
When it comes to campfires, I spend most of my time setting a bad example.
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