cheerful

I just rolled back in from a weekend camping down by the river. Sometimes when I go it winds up a tent city, with a large group of folks, lots of activity and beer and singing by the fire. Sometimes it's more relaxed, a few core people and naps by the water. That's what I needed this weekend, and that's what I got.

Rudy, Togi, and I packed up (too much gear, as usual) and drove on down there, first on the interstate, then a county road, and so on down to sandy dirt where I'm always afraid I'll bog down and have to get help yanking her out of the hole. Smooth sailing this time, though. We pulled up to the property a little before sundown on Friday and between then and now I devoted myself to not worrying about school or bills or any damn thing.

You know how it is with close friends around a bonfire. Voices in the dark, the crisp crack of a new can of Pabst opened, the occasional flare when someone gets to fire farming. We talked about abortion, war, queer politics, music, and sex. We told a few dumb jokes. It was excellent and it was just what I needed. We cooked hotdogs in a tinfoil package filled with beer, and they were delicious.

Today we got up, packed up, and drifted back into town. On the way out of the Madison area we stopped into a podunk little Jiffy Mart and guess what I found. Cheerwine! Yes, that delicious cherry soda I fell for in North Carolina and haven't seen since, in glass bottles, all cold and waiting for me. I bought three and I'm drinking one as I type this. How cool is that?

take me to the river

Tonight: Mostly clear. Lows 41 to 48. Northeast winds around 5 mph.
Saturday: Mostly sunny in the morning then becoming partly cloudy. Highs around 76. East winds around 10 mph.
Saturday Night: Partly cloudy. Lows 50 to 53. East winds around 5 mph.

As the locals know, the weather in North Florida ranges from hot as homemade sin to cold as a witch's tit in a brass bra. Somewhere between the season of massive heat and massive skeeters and the season of chilly damp followed by hard freezes, we get a couple of perfect weeks. Candy blue skies. Bonfire nights. Moonlight turning every leaf silver. Sunlight that warms your body without melting your soul.

Camping weather.

My ground tarp's cut, an 8 X 10 slice of an old billboard cover. My quilts are rolled tight and bound with a bungee cord. My cooler is washed out and waiting to be packed full of three days worth of canned beer. My backpack's crammed full of socks, drawers, notebooks, and novels.

All around town, I can imagine my friends. We've bounced a few messages off each other - I know we're all half out of town already. "I'll pick you up at 6, be ready." "We got plenty of food, don't hold us up once we get rolling." "Give me the address, I may need to stay last at work and come after."

I've got my mind fixed on one moment in time: past the hour and a half drive, past the unlocking of the gate and the turning on of the water supply, past setting up my tent in the dark (good thing I've got practice on that one), past gathering wood. The moment when we drag stumps and folding chairs up next to the fire, crack open our beers, and settle in to watch the night unfold.

Don't miss out on the good weekends, guys. You don't get a whole lot of them.

up the river, down the river

For all that it stormed and raged Friday night, hanging out at the river (Suwanee, in this case) with a handful of friends and several cases of Pabst is always better than sitting in town watching cable.
The best times were had just sitting on the bank, listening to birds and cows and dogs and such echo over the water. But the funniest bit was when my friends decided Sunday morning that I'd slept enough, and very carefully removed on length from each leg of my tent, dropping the roof two feet and making the sides look deflated - a little strange to wake up to, let me just say.

Oh, yeah, I love camping.

I almost forgot. Getting out there in the dark, down in a state camping lot on St. George. Putting up the tent, with various cussing and regrets at the sorry way it was put away last time. Building the fire and saying things like, "Damn, there's a lot of stars!" and "You think a ranger will look in our cooler?"

We hiked around a little, talked about farts and politics, napped in the cool afternoon. My buddy showed us all his thermal underwear.

Now I'm home, showered, and eating stew.

Stew for After Camping:
1. Your dad kills a deer.
2. Your mom cooks deer ribs and gravy and gives you the leftovers.
3. Mix leftovers in a big pan with a can of stewed whole tomatoes (squish them in your fists) and a can of water - maybe two.
4. Stir in the leftovers from New Year's Eve's veggie tray and a small yellow squash your mom gave you.
5. Oh, and some garlic and black pepper and maybe salt.
6. Cook it up.
7. I like it with hot sauce. I'm a Crystal man, but whatever you got handy will do.