Bethie and I are going to be taking quite a road trip in August, and it looks like we’ll get a chance to do some camping. (Don’t worry, I’ll still manage to post pretty regularly.) I keep telling her I’m going to tie her to a big birch tree in the deep woods and give her a proper switching. Somehow, I don’t think she believes me. (She really ought to….)
At first, you’re quite helpful in putting up the tent, but you soon become bored and frustrated. “I’m tired of this!” you announce, tossing a tent pole to the ground as you storm off into the woods.
You return from your hike half an hour later to find that I’ve managed to finish erecting the tent on my own. You take in the pleasant aroma of something I’m busy cooking in a pot over the fire.
“Oh. Looks like you’ve got dinner going.”
“Yeah. Beef stew.” I say, turning around with a large, flat wooden spoon in my hand. I wipe the spoon clean with a cloth and start walking in your direction. “But if you want any, I imagine you’ll have to eat it standing up.”