Friday, we went camping. Biggy left work early, picked Lo up from school, went to pick up her friend K, and set out for Ellijay with the pop-up in tow. Since I had an afternoon class, I took a separate car--meaning: I didn't have to help set up camp. (Truth be told, I have never had to help. I always "have a class.")
We stayed in a cool, retro campground (Are all campgrounds retro?) called Camp Cherry Log, and our site was right beside the old lodge, so the girls could come and go to play pool or ping-pong, put together puzzles, or steal all the plastic coffee stirrers (which I found last night in the washing machine after I washed Lo's clothes).
Saturday, we went to the Apple Festival, where Biggy and the kids consumed apple juice, apple cider, apple dumplings, and candied apples. They also partook of non-themed ingestibles-- pizza, blue slushees, and homemade root beer, but passed on the deep fried pickles.
There was quality entertainment all day long.
That evening, back at the campsite, we found ourselves next door to the Martha Stewart family of campers: Mom and Dad ("We're training for a marathon!"), three kids under 5 (all dressed in Eddie Bauer and J. Crew), roasting strawberry marshmallows ("Have you ever had the strawberry marshmallows on S'mores? They taste just like chocolate-covered strawberries") on store-bought roaster prongs, while they sang "The Bear Went Over the Mountain." Meanwhile, we roasted white marshmallows on muddy sticks and played a round of Would You Rather..."Would you rather bite Dad's toenails or Mamoo's?" "Would you rather kiss Laszlo in front of your whole class or lick Mom's armpit after she comes back from running?"
More later on Why I Hate Shuttling.