We just call it camp. "When are we heading to camp?" "Who all's down at camp?" "Are yinz headin' t'camp this weekend?"
A few reasons my parents and brother don't spend much (or any) time at camp: No running water, no flushable toilets, and no electricity. (There is a generator, so the last one isn't ENTIRELY true.) These reasons are also the reasons why I think I'm adopted.
I love it down there. I work with my hands, I sit and relax, I sit and listen to stories, I tell stories of my own, we tell dirty jokes, and we eat REALLY well. This weekend's menu consists of ribs, smoked bacon-wrapped meatloaf, home-made seafood pierogis, deep-fried Cornish game hens, smoked brisket, and maybe possibly some corn.
It's nice to get away from everything if even just for a weekend. I wish I could leave this damn phone at home, but I can't. And I don't want to get into why. Again.
I'm going to try to blog every day this weekend. We'll see if I can stick to that.
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