The BS on Camping

Part One

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for camp repellant

I am determined that my eight-year-old will miss as little as possible because he was blessed with senior parents and that included the Boy Scout Mommy and Me campout. 

I think I have always viewed the Boy Scouts like one of those Norman Rockwell paintings of Americana.  In my mind I could see Norman painting my little Cub Scout in our backyard, pitching his tent, cooking on an open fire, and proudly saluting the flag with me watching from my porch wearing a 1940’s type hairstyle and house dress.  I’m not sure Norman ever went camping with his mother much less his grandmother and more than hairstyles and fashion have changed since the Boy Scouts of the l940’s.

First there was the paper work that had to be filled out before we could attend this 24 hour Mommy and Me campout.  That equates to about one page for every hour spent camping.  Files had to be downloaded.  Ok, there are some definite disadvantages to having parents born in the 40’s but once I figured out which button to click, we were fine; well except I had to phone my 93 year old mother to ask if she remembered when I had gotten my last tetanus shot.  I whipped out the old credit card, paid our fees, and printed three sets of documents to take with us to the camp. 

Next, it was off to Wal-Mart for a two person tent light enough for me to carry, simple enough to erect, and cheap enough to afford.  We found…..one.  I grabbed it just before the mommy stampede started.  “Remember the Boy Scout Motto: Be Prepared! You should have come earlier” and I raced for the closest check-out stand.

Then there was the all-important list of other suggested “necessities” for this camping trip: flashlight, change of clothes, extra shoes, sleeping bags, rain gear, ground cover, first-aid kit, snacks, water, Boy Scout uniform, jackets, lawn chairs, insect repellent, and a means to haul all of this to the campsite which could be as much as a mile away from the parking lot on a gravel trail. “Be Prepared!” kept racing through my brain so I added Advil, Icy Hot, Thermal Wrap, aspirin and doubled my hormone replacement meds.  To get all of this gear to camp, which now filled the back of my suburban, it was suggested that we also pack a little red wagon, luggage carrier, or a rolling garbage can.  I noticed U-Haul was not listed.

The day of the camp out we arrived early, or what I thought was early.  The parking lot was already filled with what looked like 400 refugees fleeing an impending hurricane and with all their worldly goods that they could carry. A mad house of shopping carts,  grocery carts, rolling garbage cans, rolling suitcases, garden wagons, little red wagons,  all rolling, bumping, and tipping over were swirling around me.  Women and children were running all over the place while dark thundering clouds gathered on the horizon. “Be Prepared”.  I parked next to the road facing the exit and unloaded.  As we headed to registration I saw a small flash of lightning.  I clutched my child, cell phone, and garbage can handle as we rolled, bumped, and tipped over our overloaded trash can.  Echoing with the distant thunder was “Be Prepared.  Be Prepared.  Be Prepared”.   But I wasn’t at all prepared for what was to come.

                                                (Continued in next week’s blog)

Cleaning Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for Dust Bunnies

Aside from the usual cleaning hazards (inhaling fumes, bleach burns, slippery floors, vacuum cleaners left longer than two weeks in the hallway, spontaneous combustion of cleaning sponges, marital problems started by Mr. Clean), cleaning can also be hazardous to your loved ones.

Granted, I do not clean, I mean REALLY clean, all that often.  While some adhere to the traditional spring cleaning, I am more aligned with the Mayan calendar, which means I haven’t really cleaned since Dec. 21, 2012 when their calendar ended.  But yesterday I decided it was time to scoop out the house and engage in some hard core cleaning.

Most of the time my cleaning consists of moving the clutter to a different room, rearranging the clutter in a more organized manner, or hauling the clutter to the barn.   In moments of desperation I have actually been known to sweep, mop, and vacuum all floors at the same time regardless of whether or not the floors are covered in carpet, wood, tile, or cement. 

Most of the time I give the carpet a quick vacuum in the high traffic areas and as my grandmother used to say “give it a lick and a promise.”  This particular day I decided to shampoo all the carpet; after all, it had been six months since the Mayan calendar ended.

I started in the twelve-year-old’s room.  After removing enough wrappers, bottles, paper plates, and coke cans to start my own landfill, I vacuumed and shampooed the carpet.  Who knew the carpet was really blue instead of dove gray? 

Inspired, I went on to the eight-year-old’s room.  I removed all the throw rugs.  Seeing the spot where I had tried to remove a stain last month reminded me to double check my cleaning solution to make sure there was no bleach in it this time.  No bleach.  Whew!  Carpet vacuumed, shampooed, and fans turned on high to speed the drying process.  Now I am really motivated.  On to the living room.

This was more of a challenge.  Furniture pieces had to be tilted back and the coffee table moved to the other side of the sofa.  I was on a roll.  Spitting out white foam and sucking up water that would make the Mississippi seem clear; my carpet shampoo machine was doing an excellent job.  I was surprised to see that my carpet was a solid color and did not actually have a pattern in it, that I shampooed it again; this time the water really looking like the Mississippi River.  This resulted in a soggier carpet which needed more drying time.  Off to our bedroom.

By this time my carpet shampoo-er and I were both running low on steam.  I turned the TV on and discovered a “Matlock” marathon and took a little break.  In between episodes I managed to do a little more decluttering, cleaning, and shampooing.  Later during more sporadic cleaning and episode 9 of the “Matlock” marathon, Dr. Hubby came in to take a shower.  Before settling down to join me in watching episode 10, he decided to get a little snack from the kitchen by way of the living room.

I heard the crash, the splintering of wood, and the thud of a body on newly shampooed carpet before I heard the screams from Dr. Hubby and the frightened children.  I scampered to the living room to discover Dr. Hubby sprawled out on the floor.  The coffee table, which I had moved to the other side of the sofa while the carpet dried, was now missing two legs.  He, fortunately, still had his legs attached.

“Who put a coffee table in the middle of nowhere when there hasn’t been anything there for the past ten years?” he yelled between knee spasms, words describing questionable heritage, and clinching his teeth.

“I shampooed the carpet so I moved the coffee table until it dried.”

“You couldn’t put it back?”

I helped Dr. Hubby to his recliner after I determined an ambulance was not necessary and supplied him with a handful of Advil.  Then I began to laugh out of relief or at the comedy of it all.  Dr. Hubby, even at his age, can shoot the eye out of a black eyed pea at 30 yards but can’t see a 2x4x3 foot coffee table in the middle of an open space in broad daylight.

“He’s going to be ok, right?  Cause it wouldn’t be as much fun without him.  You are ok, but just not as much fun,” worried the eight-year-old.

“He will be fine,” I hoped.

 The twelve-year-old and I moved the coffee table back to its customary place and used books to replace the now missing legs.  I put the vacuum cleaner and the carpet shampoo-er back in the hall closet exactly in the same place as outlined by the dust print.  Don’t want any more accidents.

I thought about my day of house cleaning, carpet shampooing, and coffee table vaulting husband.   Even without a calendar, the ancient Mayans have spoken:

 Excessive cleaning can be hazardous ...to somebody!