27 July 2009

Saturday's Alright For Fighting...

a raccoon.

This last weekend was a great one to pack up and get out of town for some sun, swimming, and sleeping in campers.

Captain and Mrs. Tiki, Kimba, and the Nelson clan trekked south to the lake Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Highlights include:

1.Good wood.
2.A very nice site, where an expanse of green opened up to a beautiful view of the south end of the lake.
3.Warm lake water, a sufficient beach, and three weird slimy, jellish egg sac/frog spawn bags.
4.An emergency scrub down after a potential roll in poison ivy by Elliot.
5.A much-needed nap by all members of the Nelson family.
6.Mrs. Tiki’s mom brought all kinds of veg and meat, which we made up into our own foil packets – YUM!
7.Birthday cake, as the Captain turns 31 this week.
8.A near-sunset boat ride, during which Spencer chanted/sang to himself the whole way.
9.Excellent campfire conversation – one topic being this question: What literary character would you like to be?

Answers included: Brent – the dad from Swiss Family Robinson; Kimba – Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, so she could brood. It is possible she was kidding, but it stuck.; Captain – Gandalf from Lord of the Rings; Me – Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice; and Mrs. Tiki - Minerva McGonagall from the Harry Potter books.

Note: Not that this is terribly important or fascinating to you readers, but it comes into play later.

10.A Sunday morning consisting of hot dogs and cheddar wursts after the two men (one of them being the cook) showed up from fishing way later than they meant.

But perhaps the most exciting incident to occur was the raccoon episode alluded to at the beginning of this entry.

It was past nine o’ clock, and the sliver of crescent moon was hanging in the sky. The campfire was bright, and the conversation flowing. Raccoons had frequented the campsite last night, and the first sign they’d be back was the skittering sound of paws on wood sometime close to the eleven o’clock hour. Training all our flashlights on the sound, we spun to see a large coon nearly atop our picnic table, attempting to feast on the s’mores remnants there. After a few seconds, it ran off. However, this was a bold, brazen breed of coon…he was back within minutes. It was roughly at this time that Brent had the idea to go coon hunting. He picked up the fire stick, and held it javelin-like as he advanced on the animal. If you’re having trouble picturing this, think of cavemen who seek out food…bent arm raised in front of them, other arm lifted high with a menacing spear in their hands…all this while they grunt meaningful messages to each other.

Anyway, I am not in a position to see much of Brent’s advancement, but both Brent and the Captain are getting close, and the raccoon isn’t moving. Pretty soon these four words rent the quiet night air.

“Are you shitting me?”

These words are uttered by my husband – not at how huge the coon is, but at how the raccoon is NOT fleeing. Brent understands RIGHT NOW that he very well might have to take this thing down – something he had not really intended on doing. Kimba, Mrs. Tiki, and myself begin laughing hysterically, because as if the words were not funny enough, now we see the image of long-legged Brent, javelin raised, sprinting towards the now-retreating coon, bent on destruction. A little too late, as the coon got away.

The whole incident then morphed into a Dungeons and Dragons adventure, as Brent now begins collecting rocks. His plan now consists of a rock “ranged” attack, and Captain will take over the melee combat. I jokingly ask Brent if he wants me to cast a fireball, and Mrs. Tiki says she’ll heal the party. Of course, it is mentioned at one point that if the Captain were indeed Gandalf like he’d mentioned earlier, this whole raccoon-killing thing would be totally pointless.

Lots of laughing and reenactments ensued until bedtime.

Number of food traditions: Three (walking tacos, hot dogs/chips, grilled packets)
Number of really sunburnt people: Two
Number of raccoons who survived the weekend: One
Number of times “Are you shitting me?” was said: Dozens!
Number of apple pie casualties: Almost one
Number of birthdays celebrated: One

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