The two secret answers for those that read our blog (not to be shared with heathens that do not) are:
Yes.
February 12th.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Oregon Trails: Backyard Camping Edition
10:09 P.M. As you look into the sky, there are two tiny clouds on the horizon. Temperature inside the tent is 85 degrees. Outside is a pleasant 70 degrees. Do you (a) leave the rain fly on the tent, (b) intelligently take off the rain fly but leave it partially connected on one side, (c) allow your wife to take it off and put it in the furthermost part of your house?
C
1:02 A.M. Your wife awakes you and you realize that the water on your face is not drool. A pleasant surprise, but only for a moment. A light drizzle has started to permeate your tent, which has a complete mesh top, and your family is getting wet. Do you (a) throw a blanket over your youngest daughter so she can have her first water-boarding experience, (b) tell your oldest daughter to "can [her] whimpering" and "take it like a man", (c) ask your wife to go find the rain-fly as you try to locate the cell phones so they don't get wet, (d) all of the above?
D
1:03 A.M. The drizzle has switched to a flash summer desert downpour of 33 degree rain and you are standing outside the tent. Your hairless dome does not soak up any water and you are soaked to the nether regions. Your wife has not returned, did she (a) slip and slide down your front yard grassy mud trying to take a turn while running barefoot, (b) have trouble getting up while laughing at herself, (c) catch the rain-fly in the door on the return trip and nearly ruin your new tent (d) all of the above?
D

1:04 A.M. You daughters are still whimpering and gasping for air. Your son has (a) awoken and started doing an indian rain dance naked on his foam pad, (b) slid down to the bottom corner of the tent on an interior river of water (c) covered himself, starting his own waterboarding process, and fallen back to sleep.
C
1:06 A.M. You are now completely drenched. Your wife is still laughing. The neighbors are shutting their windows in angst. Under her sleeping bag, your oldest has started to pray for deliverance from this evil. The rain-fly is tangled. You have died of dysentery.
1:07 A.M. The rainfly is in place, and you begin transferring things from inside the tent to the kitchen. In what order do you take things in? (a) The panic-stricken oldest child who is wondering why this happens to people even after they pray, (b) the passed-out from lack of air, asleep other children, (c) the cell phones, (d) the guns, (e) the shoes, (f) the sleeping bags and pads.
c-d-b-a-e-f
1:09 A.M. The rain has stopped. Your 9th layer of your epidermis has started the water absorption process. Your kitchen is a pile of gear. You must now spend the next 25 minutes getting things to areas of the house where they can properly dry. You are completely awake. You stare out the window as the powers-that-be laugh, having proven again His sense of humor. Happy 4th of July. Good job declaring your independence from any pioneer-heritage-manliness, you ninny.
C
1:02 A.M. Your wife awakes you and you realize that the water on your face is not drool. A pleasant surprise, but only for a moment. A light drizzle has started to permeate your tent, which has a complete mesh top, and your family is getting wet. Do you (a) throw a blanket over your youngest daughter so she can have her first water-boarding experience, (b) tell your oldest daughter to "can [her] whimpering" and "take it like a man", (c) ask your wife to go find the rain-fly as you try to locate the cell phones so they don't get wet, (d) all of the above?
D
1:03 A.M. The drizzle has switched to a flash summer desert downpour of 33 degree rain and you are standing outside the tent. Your hairless dome does not soak up any water and you are soaked to the nether regions. Your wife has not returned, did she (a) slip and slide down your front yard grassy mud trying to take a turn while running barefoot, (b) have trouble getting up while laughing at herself, (c) catch the rain-fly in the door on the return trip and nearly ruin your new tent (d) all of the above?
D

1:04 A.M. You daughters are still whimpering and gasping for air. Your son has (a) awoken and started doing an indian rain dance naked on his foam pad, (b) slid down to the bottom corner of the tent on an interior river of water (c) covered himself, starting his own waterboarding process, and fallen back to sleep.
C
1:06 A.M. You are now completely drenched. Your wife is still laughing. The neighbors are shutting their windows in angst. Under her sleeping bag, your oldest has started to pray for deliverance from this evil. The rain-fly is tangled. You have died of dysentery.
1:07 A.M. The rainfly is in place, and you begin transferring things from inside the tent to the kitchen. In what order do you take things in? (a) The panic-stricken oldest child who is wondering why this happens to people even after they pray, (b) the passed-out from lack of air, asleep other children, (c) the cell phones, (d) the guns, (e) the shoes, (f) the sleeping bags and pads.
c-d-b-a-e-f
1:09 A.M. The rain has stopped. Your 9th layer of your epidermis has started the water absorption process. Your kitchen is a pile of gear. You must now spend the next 25 minutes getting things to areas of the house where they can properly dry. You are completely awake. You stare out the window as the powers-that-be laugh, having proven again His sense of humor. Happy 4th of July. Good job declaring your independence from any pioneer-heritage-manliness, you ninny.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Been Naughty?
In examining our progression of negative consequences - alternative activity... time out/corner... nap... shower - we realized that the last three of our punitive actions are things we wish we had more of. Maybe if I'm bad, they'll tell me to take a nap...
Probably shouldn't try to find out...
Probably shouldn't try to find out...




