A whittle wood goes a long way

Jeremy, my 10 year old, decided that this would be the year or the wood whittling. He searched the woods for the perfect piece of wood, and then plopped himself in a camping chair and began to whittle an adorable little pencil. He got the point so sharp that I told him he should stick it into the remains of the previous nights fire, blacken the tip and write with it.

His whittling and wood carving talents garnered him a following, his cousins now wanted knives. Every night, as the adults were preparing dinner, the kids would sit at our camp site with their knives and perfect piece of wood and begin to carve. Every so often someone would yell out, "DON'T GET TOO CLOSE! YOU ARE IN MY BLOOD CIRCLE!" For some reason that always cracked me up.

The girls were carving what looked like arrows, and the boys decided to comb the woods for sticks that looked like bows. What an adventure this turned out to be!

Of course they had to find one for my baby, who is not my favorite, nor is he adorable. Help me. I am captivated by the cuteness.

Before he shot his arrow, he told me that I had to countdown and say blast off. 3-2-1-BLASTOFF! We did that about 6,842 times, give or take.

And here he is, the mastermind. Jeremy is like MacGyver. He can take an ordinary item and turn it into something fun and awesome. What a mind he has. If only I was half as creative as this awesome kid.

He wanted me to capture the arrow as if flew out of the bow, but I could not do it with the zoom lens. And let me tell you, those arrows really took flight and flew some distance.

I love the way the woods beckon the kids to be inventive. I love the way the books that we have read this year and listened to on tape have helped to channel their creativity. The Sign of the Beaver and Farmer Boy directly influenced the projects they worked on in the woods. I have great kids. I really do.

Vacation Wrap-up: The running edition

We camp in the town of Hague, which is right next to the town of Fort Ticonderoga. Fort Ticonderoga being famous for the pencils, and of course, the fort. It is rich with history and breathtaking scenery.

I love running on the mountain roads. One of the first things that you come to when you leave the campsite is a cemetery. When we were children my sister and I used to hold our breath as we drove past the cemetery, believing that we would add extra minutes to our lives. Our parents encouraged this fun little practice simply because the few moments of silence added extra minutes to their sanity. Apparently we were loud and silly.

The sight of Old Glory waving gently in the warm breeze over a memorial to fallen soldiers reminds me once again of what a privilege it is to live in a free country.

This view is the reason that I ran 8 miles a day. I simply could not get enough of the vast blue sky, the voluminous clouds and the immense rolling hills. This landscape far exceeds the suburban streets that I call home.

Another thing that caught my eye were the barns. I love this red one, the way the color pops against the lush green of the mountain that stands guard over it.

And this lovely old repository. I was so tempted to enter the barn and snoop around inside. How amazing would it be to tear that wood down and make a dining table out of it? My mind was absorbed with all of the possibilities.

This amazing stone church is perched atop the cemetery. Not only is it lovely outside, but inside is loaded with character and offers a cool respite from the heat. I did not take pictures of the interior because it seemed disrespectful to me.

The view from the top. I would arrive at my destination and look back at where I had just come from and feel a tremendous sense of satisfaction. I loved the way it felt as I ran back down the mountain. The way the mountains surround you, protecting you from harm, and sheltering you within their majesty. It is like feeling God hug you.


I long for next August when we will return so I can do it all again.

Vacation Wrap-up

Well, hello.

We returned home from vacation Saturday night. We were camping for a week up at Roger's Rock Campsite located on the beautiful Lake George. There is no cell phone reception, and there is certainly no Internet service, so I was completely AWOL from the intrawebz. It was wonderful.

As we were driving up the mountain on Saturday morning, I was watching the temperature gauge on my rear view mirror. It kept going down. Not a good sign when you plan on bunking in a tent and your sleeping bag is just inches from the cold ground. When we arrived at the camp ground it was 65 degrees which for all intents and purposes is a comfortable temperature, but in the woods it feels colder. As it turned out the temperature would drop that night into the low 40's. I was fah-reezing. And I did not sleep well because I was afraid that my boys were fah-reezing, so I kept waking up. Plus, when it gets cold like that, the air in the mattress begins to decrease creating a hammock like effect wherein my husband and I kept sliding into the center. It was like we were sleeping in a giant taco shell only without the salsa.

We woke up on Sunday morning to what would be a beautiful day. So beautiful in fact that we headed to the lake in town and had a rousing game of wiffle ball. There is a lake on the campground, but there are some issues, the rules are quite stringent. You can't use masks, snorkels, or play ball in the water. You can only use Coast Guard approved floatation devices, and we all know what fun it is to swim in a life jacket. And, the C.G. approved ones have the strap that goes from the back of the jacket, between the swimmers legs, and snaps in the front. When you have boys, things end up getting smooshed. There are a whole host of other rules, too, basically- YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RESEMBLING FUN!

My boys do not use life jackets, but they do like to float on a raft every once in a while, so we head to the Hague beach where the only rule is HAVE FUN! - just don't throw sand.

One of the best aspects of our family vacation is the cousins. The older boys on the left are so good to the younger kids. They play ball with them, swim with them, take them out on the jet skis, bring them fishing, hunt for craw-dads, and just speak to them like they are on equals. I love the older boys.

That's my baby up there, getting ready to drive that ball out of the park.

He is adorable, but he runs like that lady on Seinfeld who never swings her arms.

Up next is Jeremy. He knocks it out of the park.

The Hague beach in all of its glory.

I did not want to leave the woods at all this year. I was content to live there for the rest of my life, it possible. I am like Henry David Thoreau.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

Tune in tomorrow to see the scenery from the 8 mile route that I ran almost everyday.

Carefully tying together Hillbillies and pedicures

Yesterday, quite spontaneously, my mother and I went to get pedicures. I chose a lavender color, something I would not normally choose. I usually pick some shade of coral that ends up looking like the exact shade of coral that the nail tech just removed, only with a different name. The name of my color is called, Easy to Get. Hmmmm.

My mother and I were telling the ladies that were doing our toes that we were getting ready to go camping. They were simply fascinated as to why we would choose to go into the woods with no running water, no electricity and no cell phone service. Fascinated and intrigued, they were. They peppered us with honest and genuine questions and really seemed to come around to the idea. One of the ladies even asked me to write down some basic information as to where we camp. I think that we are going to see them in the woods sometime soon.

We are packing this week in preparation to leave for vacation. We are going camping up in the beautiful mountains of Lake George NY, we do it every year and it never gets old.

Kevin has a new plan for packing this year. He is bringing the trailer. Apparently we are kicking it Sanford and Son style. His exact words were, "I am going to line the trailer with firewood and then lay a tarp over it to secure it. Then I am going to pack the camping stuff on top of it and lay another tarp to secure that. That way, everything will be on the trailer and the vehicles will be empty. We will have more room inside."

I love that he is always looking out for our comfort, but the image that popped into my mind was this.


The only difference is our dog is smaller.

It does, however, beat the year that we had a huge, and I mean huge fight the night before we left for vacation and Kevin, out of sheer frustration with me, just simply threw everything into the back of the pick-up truck. That was fun. I am glad that we don't do that anymore.