Breakfast

Jacob’s milk, hash browns, and scrambled eggs - $1.50

My milk, hash browns, and scrambled eggs - $1.50

Sitting at the kids table in the cafeteria to eat - Free

Jacob’s excitement over buying me breakfast - Priceless. 

Irrational Wolf Spiders

Why yes, we went camping; again.  This time it was just going to be the Alpacas, the older boys were off with the Scoutmaster doing an Order of the Arrow thing. 

So, in planning, the other assistant scoutmaster and I decided to up the food budget from $1.25 per person per meal from the Braised Boy Scout trip to $2.00!  We figured we would eat like kings!  So, thanks to email firewalls, enough food was bought for all six of us.  Why am I thanking an email firewall?  Well that would be because the other guy never got the email that confirmed that there would in fact be nine of us there, not six. Which turned out to be $1.33 per person per meal, well at least it was cooler even if we didn’t get to eat like kings. 

Also this time we didn’t need tents as we rented a shelter at one the county parks.  I had been led to believe from the descriptions that it was a shelter that had multiple walls and would be semi-bug proof.  Reality was a little different.

But that was OK, I had my tent, just in case, and our bug-a-phobe had one too.  As it turned out though the one he brought had a broken poll, so I got mine out instead.

During our gourmet lunch of creamy peanut butter and squeezable grape jelly on white bread (and chips) we had visitors.

It was a wonderful tradeoff, we made sure their lunch fire went out, and the boys got to interact with the horses.  They were told how to approach a horse and the proper way to act around them, and what was ok when touching them.

Little did I know at the time that in October the plan includes Horseback riding, but I get ahead of myself.

After lunch we went for a hike and started working on some of their requirements. Many plants and animals (or signs of animals, aka horse poo) were seen, and many fun things were done.

Yes that’s my hand, and yes I put it there intentionally.  The skyline was bright enough that it was messing up the picture.  Hey, what do you expect?  It’s a 1.3 Megapixel camera on my cell phone.

As we were walking back to our “campsite” I got to have an interesting conversation with a couple of the boys about what we choose to remember.  Since it was almost 9/11 remembering was on my mind anyway.  I was talking with them about what I remembered from when I was in college.  No, not about the class work specifically, but about the most vivid memories.  I pointed out to them that I had a good time in college, but the specific instances that I remembered most were the bad ones.  Like when one of my professors called me a “stupid American peasant.”  I pointed out to the boys that they get to choose how and what they remember.  The two that were listening are the only two in the group that would actually hear what I was saying.  They honestly looked thoughtful instead of just rolling their eyes the way mine would have.

Nazrat (Tarzan spelled backwards – Something my dad always said: why THAT stuck, I’ll never know), would have been proud.

After the walk we had 7-11 year olds, out enjoying nature, with nothing to do.  Nothing bad could even come of that. Right? The post walk, pre-dinner down time was memorable too.

So first, one of the boys made an absolutely absurd claim which the other boys couldn’t leave alone.  The ensuing argument probably lasted 30 minutes, all of which were painful, but we’re supposed to let them work that stuff out.  I did think during the argument, that instead of calling them the Spitting Alpacas, that Braying Jackasses might be more appropriate.

The other was more typical.  One of the boys was standing there talking, turned to run, caught his foot on a picnic table, and belly flopped on the concrete.  Our troop has several adults that are trained medical personnel in real life.  Luckily none of them were there.  Dr. Steve to the rescue!  The Belly Flopper has a skinned knee, and a sore arm.  I got a couple of the boys to do the first aid on the knee while I checked out his arm (it landed under his body when he fell).  He had full range of motion in the arm, and forearm without any pain, and I squeezed lightly near the elbow and it didn’t hurt.  I told his parents what happened and suggested that they may want to call their pediatrician to make sure.

Dinner was Beef Stew, French bread, and monkey bread; all right from the good nasty at the top of the food pyramid.  What else did you expect for what we spent?

So, as the sun set and we enjoyed our campfire the bugs started to come out.  Specifically Walking Sticks and Wolf Spiders.  At first it wasn’t so bad, but once it was fully dark, then the fun began.  I let our resident bug-a-phobe use my tent.  So my sleeping bag, and air mattress where laying one the ground, in the open.  After I had caught the Walking Stick, on my face I decided that I ought to check my bed.  Low and behold there was a gigantic wolf spider, on my pillow.

One of the boys tried to kill it, and missed.

At which time the bug-a-phobe completely lost it.  I’m not going to get into details of the next couple of hours other than to say we ended up having someone come and get him.  He never would have fallen asleep.  Once we told him he was going home he calmed down immediately, so at least I know we made the right choice for him. 

In the Boy Scouts’ adult leader training they said: “Boy Scouts is FUN, with U in the middle”, and he wasn’t having fun at that point.  From what I was told the next day all he talked about on the way home was how much fun he had that day. 

Ultimately I think the bug-a-phobe’s "moment" is going to be a good learning experience for everyone involved.  For him in knowing that he can trust us to help him, for the Boys in compassion (there wasn't any "grow-up" or "shut-up" or other mean spirited stuff), and for the Troop as it seems to me that the way we've been doing things is "because that's the way we've always done it."  The bug-a-phobe’ isn't going to fit into the standard "box" that the Troop is used to; he is a good kid and I would hate to lose him over camping. I think that we can accommodate him and all be better for it.

I got to thinking: What exactly are the camping requirements of boy scouts?

I've been looking in the Boy Scout book, and as far as I can it is only 20 nights camping, he has managed four nights already.  20 nights is needed for the Camping Merit Badge which an Eagle requirement.  I think if we choose his campouts carefully, we can get him there.

What do I mean by "choose his campouts carefully" - again, I've looked, and camping doesn't have to be like it was at the shelter.  It can include "cabin camping" which might work; also we could make him the King of Cold Weather.  Maybe he could do the cold weather stuff when the bugs aren't out.  Doesn't mean he won't fixate on something else, but it's worth a try.

On Sunday, while the pancakes were lollygagging on the griddle we talked shortly about "irrational fears", and that sometimes things get in your head and you just can't keep them out. We were running a little late getting home, but it was a good time.

Randomness, Part III

Lunch

I headed over to what is left of Borders today at lunch to see what was left.  I went in with a small list of things that would be nice to get.  I didn’t find any of them. 

What I did find was kind of interesting.  I picked up a shrink-wrapped cookbook from an author I like (Jaime Oliver), a book about cheese, and a picture filled guidebook to poultry.  I got not only Chickens, but ducks too!  None of those items I even thought I wanted when I walked out the door for lunch.

Sometimes it feels good to just roll with it, and do things you don’t normally do.  I still needed lunch, so I headed somewhere I don’t typically go.

While I was sitting there enjoying the ambiance and fine food; I noticed a man standing by the highway off ramp with a sign.  I watched panhandling for change while I ate.  The last time I gave money to a panhandler was in San Francisco down by Fisherman’s Wharf.  There is a guy there who hides behind a potted ficus tree, scares the living crap out of site-seeing tourists, and then while they are all out of sorts hits them up for money.  He got me for the three ones in my pocket, and the Japanese tourists across the street who were watching presumably got good pictures they can remember forever. Today was going to be different. 

When I was done eating, before I got into my car, I fished a ten dollar bill out of my wallet and gave it to him.  He seemed genuinely surprised, and certainly grateful.  As I got into my car to go, he walked over to some nearby bushed, got a half empty bottle of water, and a couple of small bags of chips out of it, and hurried across the street.  He was obviously on a mission. So I sat and watched for a minute.

A woman appeared from behind a tree across the street and met him.  He showed her what he had, she smiled.  They then walked together, straight over the gas station convenience store, and I went back to work; where I get to do all of the “expected” things once more.

I almost wish I had given him a twenty instead.

Cold War

Good evening, my fellow citizens:

This Home Owner Government, as promised, has maintained the closest surveillance of the Mouse Soviet military buildup in my Basement on the island of Cuba. Within the past week, unmistakable evidence has established the fact that a series of offensive holes missile sites is now in preparation on my stone foundation that imprisoned island. The purpose of these holes bases can be none other than to provide a vermin nuclear strike capability against my kitchen the Western Hemisphere.

I have been checking my kitchen for intruders since I declared mission accomplished.

While I have seen no “evidence” of kitchen raids; a quick look around the house has found:

Time for more concrete patch, and I think will start setting the traps outside and see what I get.

A Hill of Beans – Pinto, v2

So, last time, I wanted creamier beans and a redder appearance. 

I again started with four slices of bacon and used the kitchen shears to slice it into ribbons.  This time though I added diced onion (no shallot), a couple of clovers of garlic, and two Jalapeños. 

Instead of raw Chorizo I used smoked one that I diced into cubes.  Then I added half a can of diced tomatoes.  I got the creamier beans and redder appearance, and the second try was better than the first.  However, there is still room for improvement.

Next time, instead of the canned tomatoes to add acidity and color; I’ll paprika for color and some diced cherry tomatoes for acidity.  Also I need to find a better smoked Chorizo.  This one tasted more like pepperoni, which is ok, but I wanted more heat, and more flavor out of it.  This version was the consistency of baked beans, which is not what I wanted.  I may either mast half a can of beans, or I guess I could use some re-fried beans.  I want it kind of “pasty”. 

My First

On Open Letter to my first Weber Grill.

Why did you run away?  It’s been over ten years now since you left, and I still think about you sometimes.  It was the night before Father’s Day when you left.  Why did you go?  Did you like the houses across the street better than the apartment we were in?  Did you not like our neighbor, the gas grill?  I had such big plans for us on that Father’s Day.

It was painful, but I have moved on.  The grill I’m living with now is much more understanding.

After 10 years now we are still going strong, even after the warping grease fire that’s made it hard to get the grill properly placed.  Our relationship is so strong that we’ve had a small barrel grill and a smoker move in.  There isn’t even a hint of jealousy. 

Even so, after all these years I still think about you.  I guess you never forget your first.