Cramming it all into life....

By the looks of this blog you can most likely surmise that I have been anywhere but on my trusty computer the last couple months. I rarely focus on events on this little blog but rather the erudition acquired during the events. Yet the events have been numerous here in our little life in our little town. I often wonder if the story of my life may entail more random volumes than can be contained in the life book that I assigned to myself when we made the move from suburbia to our little rural town, complete with a herd of cattle at the top of the hill and a little lake at the bottom of the hill.

This is of course evidenced by the travelings of the little green froggy chair.



In the last week the froggy chair has gone from the living room where Kaydn Rye takes his snacktime, to the backyard where we eat most of our meals during the five months a year that you may, perhaps, encounter a 70 plus degree day here in the frozen tundra, to Kaydn Rye’s room in the back corner of the upper level of our house where he sometimes sits to watch the bubbles float from top to the bottom and back to the bottom of his lava lamp while listening to classical music on his radio and munching on cheese puffs, to the infamous Blaisdell rodeo, where he sits to take breaks between barrel racing and the calf chase, to the lake, where it serves as an anchor for Gertie, once it is secure on the beach with a large enough rock in the seat so that Gertie can not send the chair catapulting into the water behind her. The week before we did not feel inclined to take the froggy chair to the music theatre production we caught on a free night we had in the middle of the week.

On other summer days we stay right here at home and I spend the mornings, and the afternoons sometimes, recording the very legal events of peoples’ lives as an official representative of New Jersey’s finest jury verdict publication.

And there’s the endless garden weeding. As Kaydn Rye explains every time a tall weed in a neighbor's yard comes into view, “The devil must have put that weed there.”
During most days spent in the yard, I find myself pulling weeds, hoeing the garden and transplanting flowers which seem better grown on the other side of the trellis, all while in a skirt and my tennis shoes. Any good housewife should be able to weed the garden in a cute sundress. Just like you should always venture to the beach with at least a smidgen of blush. (Here's me getting ready to go to the lake during our latest camping trip.)



Our last beach day was summed up properly in the words of Kaydn Rye,
“Are you having a good day mom with me at the beach?”

“Yes I’m having a very good day. Are you?”

“Oh I’m having a great day mom.”

We camped at the lake that weekend. For those who only know me moderately, it appears implausible that I would camp. Apparently I don’t look like much of an outdoor girl. But believe me, I can do nature with the best of them. I even enjoy a good horse ride through the prairie, although mostly in my fashion tennis shoes or even flip flops now and again.

Although, I do nature right next to the bathrooms, which must feature running water, showers and electricity for my blow dryer. Although, showers aren’t as imperative as you may think. While I do not camp next to unsanitary rest rooms, I am of the opinion that the lake is a more sanitary way to bathe than a public restroom. I may require that we all essentially cleanse ourselves by fire after a brief visit to a mall restroom, but a lake, only clouded by nature itself, seems much more natural and sanitary.

So, yes, I do camp, and in fact choose the cleanliness of nature over the inconclusiveness of a motel room. When I come back from a camping weekend I often feel refreshingly clear in mind and body, yet a weekend in a motel makes me want to light myself on fire.

And while camping I feel I can control the amount of processed food, high fructose corn syrup and preservatives I feed to my family even while on vacation. As any good camping housewife would, we find more to grill than just hot dogs and hamburgers. We do lemon pepper shrimp, pineapple and steak kabobs and brined chicken (and I’m always up for suggestions on previously uncharted foods).

Previous to our last camping endeavor, I weeded the garden and the flower beds, sprayed the weeds in the yard and completely hosed off the sitting porch before even thinking about the packing that would be required for us to launch into the wilderness; therefore, I packed food, clothing, fireworks and all the camping accoutrements in a matter of only two hours. I still needed to pick up some juice and various other items for the trip when we arrived at the WalMart closest to our destination. I must have been in a hurry cause the Welchs juice that I pulled off the shelf consisted of quite a bit of corn syrup. I proceeded to tell Kaydn Rye that I had accidentally purchased juice with corn syrup and preservatives and that it thus must be consumed in moderation.

He then wanted a full ingredients list and wanted to know if he should even drink any of the juice. Here we are discussing preservatives and the difference between high fructose corn syrup and corn syrup over a campfire breakfast.



Some good campfire talk there.

Needless to say, we survived the corn syrup juice with minimal bodily harm.
So what is the erudition that has been acquired during these endeavors? Very simply, cram as much as you can into your life, no matter how little it may be.