I’m packed, I’m ready.
I brought golf discs, my portable target (complete with the inner set of chains I built for it), and this afternoon I went out and bought three more discs (including a 134g “cheater” they had on the shelf — legal minimum weight is 150g).
I’ve got a couple of books to read. I brought my marker set and my colored pencils. I’ve got a short stack of bristol and a big pile of graph paper. I’ve got my laptop (should I decide to write — typing is faster) and my pencil and pens.
I have a swimsuit, sunscreen, warm clothes, cool clothes, stylin clothes (a hot yellow dragon-print shirt I bought in Africa in 2000) and a hat for my shiny, easy-to-burn top.
I’ve got a small pharmacy packed, including allergy meds, Vitamin I, Vitamin H, and little self-contained packets of other vitamins for each day.
We’re bringing the digital camera, a connector cable for the laptop, Star Munchkin, Grave Robbers from Outer Space, Skip-Bo, a pair of cell-phones (do NOT call me) and both our vehicles.
I’ll be driving Turbo Schlock up the hill, while my wife takes the crew up in the minivan. The name “Turbo Schlock” was pronounced by Link, who read my license plate, and then read the “TURBO” label under the VW logo, and decided the two words needed to be strung together. He was right. They DO. There’s no champagne in the house (never has been), so I spritzed some Windex on a bug on the hood, wiped that off, and considered it christened.
I couldn’t be more ready.
I may enter some journal stuff from camp on their slow link, using their public web-browsing machines. Then again, I may not.