Here's where we were on Thursday night! Two teepees are permanent structures lovingly created by park rangers. To the right is a large swamp, which produced biologists wearing waders at one point in the early evening. They were covered, head to toe, in mud, but they seemed fairly friendly when we all swept by for our noisy "hike," which was actually the parents under orders from Ms Fizz to "take the children somewhere for an hour or so. NOW." Hey, Ms Fizz, I totally grok your state of mind. Rest, babe. We'll come up with conceits like "be silent and see if your spirit animal comes to you." Now we know why the Indians sent their teenagers out. Yeah, it was so they could "meditate." Must have been nice and quiet at camp without good ol' Hormone Monster roaming around whining and posturing at the campfire! Please, kid. Go find your "spirit animal." NOW!
We made baskets. Unfortunately, we forgot to bring the rubber bands with which to start the baskets. Miwok Indians invented the rubber band, you know. And we stole it from them. Here is Reena hanging up the basket stuff, and Ms Fizz with the assist.
Look at all those limber children, sitting happily on the sand. Note the adult, standing huddled in her coat, gripping her coffeecup in desperation. She is probably contemplating sitting down, as well, but knows that if she had to get up, any shred of dignity she has managed to salvage will be utterly destroyed, as the children will witness her butt in the air and her grunting efforts to become bipedal again. Better to stand, all things considered. Yes. Standing. It gives you authority!
Look at these boys running. Now fix in your brain the concept that these boys were awake all night. They are running. Do you feel your own age, now? Do you realize just how old you are? You are horribly, wretchedly old. Your joints are worn down and you're just lucky that these boys still imagine that they need you. Hoard money, so they'll remain respectful as you continue your crippling decline.