Camping, and why?

Who me, worried?

I have taken on a mission, and I intend to see it through to the end, with possible success stories or at least some kind of story to relate after. It is possible that my people view me as the leader of the expedition, but it is equally possible that they would scoff and say I was deluded if I were actually to ask.

Camping, for the love of the sweet baby Jesus. Memories of early camping trips are beginning to surface, just as we are about to set out. Memories which would have been more useful a couple of weeks ago, when this idea, this mission, was still just the barest outline of a plan. One of many possibilities open to me during this hot August. There had been another plan too, at one point, involving travel to Italy. Sure, that plan implied a level of organization and commitment that were a sliver beyond my abilities when the plan bubbled to the surface. Could have been a dream masquerading as a plan, come to think of it.

If a bear stumbles into our camp ground, I’ll make myself very big. And then I’ll shout. Or is it be quiet and still? And then I’ll tell the kids to hide, but not in the blueberry bushes or up a tree. I guess that leaves the tent, or under the canoe. Bears are utterly stumped by tents and canoes. Or is it that they turn them into stumps?¬†Funny how there’s no definitive story about how to deal with bears…

I’m not worried, of course, but still. What if my book gets wet in the canoe? I like that book, it’s interesting. And then there’s the canoeing, during which I might not be able to read at all. However. I’ve told the children we’re off on an adventure. So, may it be an adventure. Chianti and la dolce vita will have to wait…

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