Say Cheese!!

I thought everyone might enjoy this picture of my cousin's son, Aidan. Erin was delighted when she saw this picture, as it displays her ability to connect with children at a remarkable level. She has developed this skill mostly since we got married. I do not understand the connection.

In other news, Erin is trying to get me to go camping. She's taking a group of students on a big camping trip this summer, and I think she wants to take me out on a practice run. I have a number of problems with camping, mostly revolving around the lack of proper, er, facilities. Add bugs, heat, and sleeping outside to that equation, and in my mind, the Westin is looking better all the time. In actuality, Indiana has some great places to go camping, so we may give it a run sometime in the next couple of weeks.

I really think my problem lies in that camping reminds me a lot of my lone week at summer camp in the 5th grade. On the very first night, we ate dinner at around 8pm. The dinner option? Hotdogs. Coney dogs, to be exact. Now I'm never one to pass on food, and as a hungry 5th grader, I didn't pass on the dogs. Unfortunately, as a kid, my stomach acted pretty much like a dinner catapult, so anything eaten after about 6pm ran a high risk of being deposited at about 11pm into the nearest port-o-let. As a 5th grader, all alone at camp, terrified of the bugs, animals, and high school aged Christian counselors, I didn't have the good sense when my stomach called at 11pm to get out of bed and run like, well, hell to the nearest tree or port-o-let. Instead I rolled over and unloaded my coney dogs onto a large portion of the clothing stored in the dufflebag at my bed side. You'd be amazed at how many 3rd through 5th graders will awaken when they hear a fellow man getting sick. Needless to say, they don't come running to your aid.

So I say, you try being the "pukey kid" at summer camp. My guess is that you won't go racing out to go camping any time soon either.

Bret