Guest Post: Redneck Camper

This is an e-mail that Tony sent to several friends regarding his new boon in the fine art of camping. As I have been privy to this endeavor from the outset (since I share a bed with the man and all), I have wanted to document it. But I can’t say it any better than he did. See below:
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I’ve been wanting to do this for the last couple of years, specifically for camping with Thad. We tried an initial version a couple of years ago with some wooden tent poles. I saw some flaws, which is when I came up with this design. On the day before Thad’s Cub Scout camp-out a couple of weeks ago, I finally decided that I wouldn’t take the tent, and I spent 30 minutes making this. I was living dangerously, because I didn’t fully put the whole thing together until we were at the state park and didn’t bring the tent as a back-up. I had a mosquito net that my mom had given to me, and used strong clips to hold it in place at the “door.” The thing worked great, and I’m looking forward to having some rain, because I’m confident it will do just fine. I’m going to work on some sort of porch for convenience when it rains. The section that you see rolled up is an extra 10 feet of tarp. Thad loved the idea of the adventure, and a couple of other boys were impressed and were expressing that they’d rather sleep in our set-up than the three-room tents that their dads brought.

It took about as long to set up as a large tent because it took time to center the tarp, but disassembling it took just a few minutes.

I’ll admit that I was tempted to drive home without disassembling it. My creation — along with my ah-ooga horn, the rusted front bumper that is bent, and no paint on the hood — could make Jed Clampett feel right at home, though I don’t think he had the sharp-looking white stripes on his tires.
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The first time they did this in 2010, Thad declared, “We are sleeping in the back of our truck, cuz WE’RE NOT SISSIES!!!!” When he saw his Daddy building this much-mulled-over model in the back of the truck the night before the most recent camp-out he said, “Is this a prototype, Dad?” But the REAL prototype was the first attempt. Both times, the boy has been thrilled–and THAT (easy “tent” take-down not withstanding) is the goal.

Evolution of the Truck Tent: a multi-media presentation**

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**”That’s not a multi-media presentation. . .that’s a slide projector and a bed sheet!” Name that “Silly Song with Larry.”

Grace in the Small Things

It’s been a busy week. We are all happy for the three day weekend. This afternoon, Tony took the kids over to the campsite to visit the mosquitoes and to clean up some branches and brambles that were strewn hither and yon. He also wanted to teach them how to make a good campfire. Tony is good at making fires. . .and at bringing them back to life after they have been banked overnight. I, meanwhile, threw together some “Scout Stew” packets so the fire making lesson would conclude with dinner. In and amongst this, Victoria made (from scratch) eclairs. No lie. They were delicious. Alas, we scarfed them down too quickly for me to photograph them, but she plans to make more. I think I’ll keep her.

Lovely green leaves against a fading sky.

The sun's last, valiant attempts before sliding down the horizon.

My daughter. July will bring her 14th birthday. She is 5'4" and wears a size 8 shoe. There are many things wrong with this.

She still loves her Girl Power hat, however, and so do I.

Thad did not care to be photographed and is using his super stealthy Ninja skillz to avoid detection.

He might want to take some lessons from Poppy who camouflages without the least effort.

Until she smells our dinner.

The publication of this artistic, brambly fire is under protest by the Eagle Scout who lives in my house.

This photograph is approved by the Eagle Scout (in attendance) who lives in my house.

And whether artistic or blazing, the fire left behind this nice bed of coals over which we cooked our dinner. Yum.

Happy Halloween

From our house to yours. . .

Now THAT’S funny

We HAD to purchase the following shirt last night at Target. When it makes TONY laugh, it’s really, really funny.

A little frightening at times. No. Make that flat out SCARY.

My husband is quiet. I am not.
My husband is introverted. I am not.
My husband APPEARS to be polished and refined. I am not, nor do I appear to be.
My husband also APPEARS to be passive. He. Is. Not.

He is in no Way, Shape, or Form passive. Passivity is not in his nature. He just flat out doesn’t care. That is because he is an energy conservationist. An EMOTIONAL energy conservationist.

Not only does he conserve actual energy, (just ask the kids about, “The lights!!! Who left on all those lights?!?!?!?”) he also conserves his OWN energy. That is, he conserves it for things about which he cares deeply. Which would include ANYTHING to do with Truth, Justice, and the American Texan way. And also the Oilers. And Rules. And anything to do with Scouting. Or camping. Or PREPARING for camping. And crabbing. And also organizing a chuck box. And a sock drawer. And a spread sheet. And the Right Way to Do Things.

People often get the mistaken idea that because I wear the megaphone in the family that I also wear the pants. This could not be farther from the truth. My husband’s role as Paterfamilias goes down to the molecular level. I’m talking highly organized, color coded strands of DNA here.

I give you two completely random series of photos. One set taken October, 2009. The other taken April 2011. It was as I was preparing to post some of these newer photos just moments ago that I thought, “Hey–haven’t I edited this photo before?” Then it hit me.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C

Don’t even get me STARTED on the shoulder droop, the wear pattern of their shoes, or the inner workings of their analytical, PRAGMATIC minds.

There are other photos I wanted to post here as well–especially since I’ve been absent for so long–but I just scared and exhausted myself at the same time–especially with exhibit C. I think I need to go and lie down now.

All I have needed. . .

. . .Thy hand hath provided. Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

(Tony took this photo on a trip he and the kids made to the Arboretum last weekend. It’s my new favorite. I love it.)

Smile

There was a running joke with Tony’s students at Arnold. They always tried to get him to smile. He DOES smile but not very often–and it takes some doin’. So today he’s splitting wood, and I’m taking pictures, and he’s picking up logs and throwing them over to the splitter and he catches me taking “My Man In Action” photos. And he grins. He grins the grin that is like fireworks going off in my heart. He grins the, “My wife is a silly, silly woman but I love her” grin and I fall in love with him All. Over. Again. I love his smiles. And this one is my favorite.

Though I’m also kind of partial to these too.

The Man of My Dreams

Three years ago I wrote the following:

“We have a Daddy at our house. He has been a Daddy now for 8 years. My running joke is that he is a terrible Mommy, but a wonderful Daddy. And he is.

He wrestles in the floor with the children. He is the Tickle Monster. He lifts heavy things. He is an Eagle Scout, so camping with him (in a tent, on the ground) is actually pleasant. He knows how to use power tools. He builds things, and they do not fall down. He has brought cool/icky (depends on your point of view) pets into our home like snakes, chickens, turtles, frogs, a rabbit, and a tarantula. He does not mind getting wet or muddy or sweaty. He asks the children logic based questions to stretch their brains. . .he also makes silly noises and teases them to stretch their senses of humor. He does all of this, and he loves me. The children know that he loves me. The children know that he loves them.

I married the man I fell in love with. He was not a Daddy. He was a 20-something blond haired, thin, fraternity guy from a huge town I had never been to. He has become many things over the past 15 years I have known him. . .today we celebrated the fact that he is a Daddy. And we love him right back.”

The only thing that has changed in the ensuing three years is that he’s now been a Daddy for 11 years, and I’ve known him for 18. Over the past 18 months alone, he has shown again and again and again what a wonderful, Godly, husband and father my own Heavenly Father picked out for the kids and me.

Honey, you’ve only become better at this Daddy gig. You’ve got it nailed. We all adore you. You know.

One Proud Scout

I have told you before that Tony is an Eagle Scout. This is, aside from siring his children and being elligible for his University of Houston class ring, one of the most important, tangible things he’s accomplished in his lifetime.

Thad became a Tiger Cub this year. He is very proud of what he’s accomplished as are we all. He’s had a great time, and scouts is just a good thing. Tonight he and Tony participated in the Father Son Cake Bake. Traditionally the cakes have been sold as a fund raiser, but Thad’s particular pack decided to donate the cakes to community leaders this year.

As luck would have it, we live down the road from a Sheriff’s Deputy, so we called to offer him Thad’s cake. He was at a community board meeting tonight at the volunteer fire station, so all of the community leaders–a police officer, a couple of firemen, the fire chief’s wife, and some other people we couldn’t identify–got to eat cake.

Thad with some community leaders: a nurse, Deputy Gary, and Fireman Grady

Thad won the golden spoon trophy for “Tiger Cub Best in Theme.” (The theme was Jurassic Park.)

Thad and the Golden Spoon for Best in Theme Tiger Cub

It was a family effort. He and his Daddy really DID bake the cake together. I took stuff to make icing to school today and whipped up some cream cheese frosting in Tony’s science classroom (he has counters and sinks) during my planning time, then helped Thad to decorate the cake after school. Thad really got into using the grass tip. He did the stars for the dino’s body with some guidance–went a little amok with the grass tip with some guidance–but the clouds were all his own.

Thad's Cake

Humor Me (again)

Oh, it’s been a long, long week. AND we are very nearly out of school for Christmas. AND I don’t know what happened to December. Santa will have to find us at Momma’s house for Christmas this year. . .and we are all ready to get there. We haven’t been there ON Christmas day since Victoria was a baby.

Meanwhile things are GOING CRAZY at the house. Here’s the short version: Tony and I laid 625 ft. of water line on Saturday, then we took the day off work to be there today when they installed the septic system and drove up to find many, many more suprises–all (thankfully) good. See below.

This is what PART of a 625 foot trench looks like. You can’t REALLY see how far it goes, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s LONG. It is, actually, 2 football fields long. . .plus 8 additional feet. It’s long. Very. Very. Long.

Tony operated the machinery. I was there for moral support and as a general go-fer of sorts. Plus I helped lay the pipe and backfill the dirt, but I’ll spare you those photos. We were very happy that when the septic dudes needed water today, they had it.

We plan to never do this again, so do not ask. But we CAN tell you where to rent a Ditch Witch.

At the end of the road where our water main is located, there is also a telephone pole. It has this faded tape flapping and flying from it. I’m sure it used to be orange or pink or something. I don’t know what possessed me, but I walked over to look at it.

And this is what I found, people. It is emblazoned with little Texases. . .Texii, if you will. Only in Texas would the state PAY to have little Texii emblazoned on the plastic tape they use to tie to telephone poles on a road in the middle of NOWHERE. Puh-leez.

When I pointed this out to Tony (who bleeds all three colors of the Texas flag–and in their correct order I might add), he smiled knowingly with just a hint of smugness as though he would expect nothing less of the Grand and Glorious Empire. And the same thing happened on Sunday when I showed the photo to his Dad–also a Texan born and bred. His mom, who is from Louisiana like me, was just as puzzled–and disgusted–as I was.

It was stinkin’ cold in southeastern Texas today–and gray–and dreary, so when we drove up the house very early this morning Tony said, “Is that a light?” And, indeed, it was. It was several lights, actually, as they had been left on all night long. Seeing as how we are PAYING for the lights, we turned them off, but it was nice to be able to stay after dark tonight and SEE.

(Forgive the blurry photo. . .I was taking it at dusk and my hands were shaking ’cause it was C-O-L-D, plus I couldn’t use the flash.)

Okay–I am so incredibly relieved to have all the components of the kitchen put together at last. I could see it in MY mind. . .all the samples and paint chips and ideas and photos from magazines had meshed together into EXACTLY what I wanted, but Tony’s mind (though brilliant) does not function that way. I was nervous that things might not work out. . .but they did. . .and they installed our granite today!!!! It was still very dusty as they were working, but here’s a sneak preview. (The paint is not in this photo because white subway tile will be installed as a backsplash.)

The other issue was the flooring in the kitchen and breakfast room. We decided to forego ceramic tile to save money and, instead, use the same flooring as we had for the gameroom/craftroom/powder room. We had planned a very dark slate-type tile for the kitchen, and I was more than a little nervous about how the change would look. . .and what Tony would think.

It is now in as well and has gotten the THUMBS UP from Mr. Texas. He said, “It’s fine,” and also, “Instead of replacing it as soon as we can, we don’t have to replace it until it needs replacing.” That is some HIGH praise, y’all.

Breakfast room

Powder room

(Pssst. . .I’ll tell you a secret. . .it’s VINYL. No lie. It’s vinyl. It’s very nice vinyl–but it’s vinyl–and it is just fine.)

Meanwhile the septic installation crew left a huge pile of dirt which the kids took full advantage of when we brought them out after school. We didn’t have a camera with us to photograph the backhoe and deep, deep holes and big concrete septic tanks this morning. I know you are so sad about that.

Victoria was running up the pile, but the photo turned out incredibly funny. She kind of looks like a very happy periwinkle monkey.

And since it was so cold. . .and since there was no snow but plenty of dirt. . .the kids made a Dirt Man. Life in the country don’t ya know.

Here is Joss all clean. It is a long and complicated story as Joss has made the rounds of the neighborhood, but she finally got her “female issue” taken care of, and while she was at the vet she got a bath. Ain’t she purty?

So now, Joss and I are engaged. That’s right. Betrothed. Bound. I keep on telling her that I will be out there very, very soon, and that I promise to give her bed and bone as long as she doesn’t get run over. (Don’t tell Tony. . .but I think he already knows as the dog spent a large portion of Saturday either laying on me or following me around. And I’m sure I won’t have to REMIND him about the two snakes, tarantula, and various and sundry fish, reptiles, and amphibians that have passed through my KITCHEN. And my purses.) I kept my Jossified hands away from my face, but I had to hug her once.