So about a month or so ago, my sister from Peterborough came up with my pesky-brother-in-law and we went camping. It rained. I was wet. I slept in a tent. In the rain. On the hard, cold, ground.
Did I mention it rained?
Like, the whole time?
Anyhow, they brought their little guy Dexter, who loves, loves camping.
Don't you Dex?
Dex? Uh, Dexter?
Ok, so maybe he spent most of his time trying to figure WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH HE WAS BEING FORCED TO BE OUTSIDE? WHERE WAS HIS PILLOW? HIS NICE WARM QUEEN SIZED BED AND FIREPLACE? HEELLLOOOO??????
He obviously has issues. Roxy, on the other hand, kept running to her leash to try and get me to take her for a walk so she could do her business. I was like 'Dude! The world is your toilet! We're camping!'
She didn't get it.
Instead we took her to the beach and let her frolic in the water and chase a stick while Dexter tried to hitch-hike back to Peterborough, thank you very much. And while we were at the lake, we saw the TWO BIGGEST LOONS EVER! And yes I realize I am using A LOT of CAPS! But honestly, these things were F*CKING HUGE!
They started coming closer and closer, and at one point I was seriously thinking that they were plotting to attack my dog. I mean, it could happen, right? And these two loons were just big and brave enough to do it. I swear.
Then my sister and her husband had a bright idea! They wanted to go blueberry picking so we could have blueberry pancakes for breakfast the next morning! Yay for them! Except I wanted poached eggs on toast.
So, we went blueberry picking. I drove the car slowly while my sister (in the front seat) and my pesky-brother-in-law (who sat in the back seat with Dexter and a sopping-wet-just-from-the-lake Roxy), looked out the windows and scoped for berries. It was late in the season, and everything had either been picked-over OR had been eaten by bears.
When they did see something blue one of them would scream ‘STOP THE CAR!’ I would slam on the breaks and we would all jump out of the car and try to pick blueberries the size of a pinhead. They were soooo small.
And then my pesky-brother-in-law dumped the basket of blueberries in my backseat. Twice. Combine that with two dogs in the backseat and us getting in and out of the car like, 40 times, and you have a bunch of squashed blueberries in the back of my car.
But, he did make me a drink. With lemon, of course, because they are camping experts who travel with lemon for drinks. No, I'm not kidding. They've been camping for many years, and have it down to science.
Before:
After:
So, once I had my drink, I decided that we had to play Scrabble! It was either that or Drinking Snakes and Ladders, which I STILL can't get anyone to play with me. So, Scrabble it was.
I started us off with the word 'Hula' and got great points! Except, I spelled it wrong and put down 'Hoola'. I only realized this after my sister triumphantly placed her tiles and loudly explained 'It's a chop!' My brother-in-law and I looked down and saw this:
What could I do? I mean, I just realized I spelled Hula as Hoola. I was no Einstein myself!
But I am very good with Scrabble tiles. I mean, look what I did!
OK, perhaps I had a little too much by that point, because right after this I went to sit down in my chair except the legs came out underneath me and suddenly I was on my ass, with a rum in one hand and wine (?) maybe in the other.
So I went to bed and slept on the hard, cold ground. And Roxy totally hogged the tent.
Bitch.
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