Just to update everyone about ongoing first session covid camp projects:
The plexiglas is still in pieces.
The closet light still doesn’t work.
But this is a new session and lots of activities are on the schedule. Many of them are more aspirational than practical, but campers gotta dream, right?
Lots of hikes, obviously. To date none has actually happened but there are many possibilities. One drawback is the fact that the OB&C and MJE tend to sleep in. Really in. So by the time we’ve fed jesus an egg, sausage, biscuit, juice and hot cocoa, and his daily antidepressant, the morning is pretty much shot. I don’t think he really wants that much to eat but the OB&C feeds him what he wants for breakfast. The kid weighs in at about 70 lbs so that’s a lotta stuff to start that day. No wonder he’s sort of sluggish afterwards. But I march him upstairs to clean his room, make his bed and brush his teeth. Well, I actually haven’t even been upstairs since he arrived six weeks ago, but here at camp-wa-my-o-lawd-wa-me we believe in the honor system, in other words what I don’t know won’t ruin my day.
So by then we’re edging into early afternoon. With summer afternoon rain showers on the horizon, that puts a kibosh on any long treks. The alternative has been trail blazing around the neighboring hills, which is fun but it’s not exactly scaling mt lecomte.
Crafts are also an important part of camp life so jesus and the OB&C have taken to making old timey concoctions. Jesus has stripped bare every sassafras tree within a one mile radius to collect leaves to dry and crush to make file, using an old wooden mortar and pestle. File, pronounced filay, is one of the ingredients used to thicken gumbo. I doubt his mother, albatross, has ever made gumbo, and doubt that she ever will but if she ever does he’s got what she needs, and lots of it.
Then they moved on to witch hazel. He and the OB&C decided that they should soak the leaves, then strain the liquid and mix it with alcohol. No one bothered to research how to do it, and frankly, they didn’t really care, they just did what they thought it would take. So now we are stocked with jars upon jars of cloudy yellow stuff which will either go into his suitcase (and most certainly break or have him hauled off the plane as a terrorist) or will be poured down the sink as soon as we get back from dropping him at the airport. Sure hope it doesn’t blow up our septic tank.
Jesus loves to grub around even where you would rather he not, and he spotted an ancient hand crank ice cream machine that has been sitting in the garage for nigh on to 40 years. It was love at first sight. He dragged the old thing out, scrubbed it clean, more or less, and he and the OB&C set to making peach ice cream. We had two half rotten peaches, a half gallon of cream that was way beyond the best used by date, some really old rock salt and they emptied the ice machine in the freezer and went at it like a house afire. For a really skinny kid he can crank like a seasoned handcar operator. And he never gives up. I mean he never, ever gives up. If he wants to make ice cream he’s gonna crank until he drops. And lo and behold, they sure nuff made peach ice cream. Twice.
We started a new reading activity yesterday. Jesus reading us the local newspaper. He finds the newsworthy doings of a small town infinitely interesting, not to mention the fact that he’s probably never seen an actual newspaper. He updates us on the (now cancelled) local arts and craft shows, performances, religious doings, city ordinance disputes, etc. But he really loves the crime blotter column. It’s mostly pretty small potatoes, like a guy complaining about noisy neighbors. Or there was a fender bender on main street. Or someone reported some person looking suspicious or overheard saying a mean thing. There were a few search and rescue reports, a guy fell down an embankment chasing his dog, but managed to get back up before the rescue squad got there (send him a bill). There was a report of smoke somewhere, and a lost guinea pig. The highlight was a theft, which jesus commented doesn’t even make it into the oakland paper, it’s mostly murders. He said it so matter of factly that it was sort of spooky.
The OB&C and I have come to appreciate the value of unpaid child labor. Jesus loves projects so we decided that he would be just the person to sand down the plastic wood with which the OB&C has filled the rotten front porch stair balusters. Frankly they are by now about 97% plastic wood and needed a lot of sanding. The OB&C presented jesus with a large electric sander which weighs about as much as he does and put him to work. I thought for sure the rattling would shake his very expensive straightened teeth out of his head, or he’d drop it on his foot or accidentally sand off some skin, but he avoided all of those potential mishaps and sanded the dickens out of those posts. Not perfect but pretty good for a compete amateur. Then we set him to work repainting them (along with a lot of the decking, stairs and nearby plants). Again, not as skilled as I would have liked, but honestly you get what you pay for.
He and the OB&C are off at the “antique” mall. They went the other day and jesus was in heaven. He is fascinated with old gizmos and gadgets so naturally picked up and fiddled with everything he came upon. The OB&C was a nervous wreck standing right by him in case he dropped something. In the end he didn’t ask for anything except a $700 ice box.
Gotta give the kid credit, go big or go home.
my jaundiced eye 