Weekend At Camp

I'm sitting in my cousin's living room watching VH1-Classic, waiting for him to get out of the shower. We're about an hour away from leaving for a camping weekend with most of our family.

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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