Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Unfrozen Fun!
Hi everyone! I have not frozen to death! I am alive, and, well, I’m somewhat warm but the cold I’m feeling today is more a function of my workplace’s faulty thermostats than anything else. It is brutally cold out (-25C) when I got up this morning, but the camping trip was a success.
When I arrived at the campsite on Friday afternoon, I was grouchy and irritable and it was cold outside. I’m afraid I wasn’t very forgiving about the whole idea, and it took a bit of convincing by Rob that I wasn’t going to freeze my ass off, but when I finally smartened up and went back outside clad in my winter-proof suits (fleece jump-suit beneath, winter-proof “big brown” style outerwear outside), I was fine.
The campsite was north of Waiporous in the Forestry Area. It only took me about an hour and a half to get there from my house, which was fine. I did get stuck in the snow when I got to the site for a few minutes, but got pushed out and managed to park the car. The NoodleDog wasn’t about to wait around for me to get parked, so he jumped out the window to play with all the other dogs. He took a particular liking to poor Sancho and followed him around the entire time we were there. I think it might be loooove.
New Year’s Eve dinner consisted of hot dogs, because it was too much of a pain to cook the pork chops we had brought. I didn’t care – hot dogs were fine by me. I was hungry by then. And it was cold, so drinking was commenced immediately. The action was centered in a cook-shelter that was at the site – it was an octagonal structure about 70 feet in diameter with three picnic tables and a fireplace opposite the door. There was, indeed, a propane heater set up inside the structure, although I’m informed it was all perfectly safe.
Installing myself in front of the fire, I ate dinner and chatted with the other seemingly insane campers. The fire was Very Hot. It was so hot, in fact, that Rob burned the seat out of his pants just by standing in front of it. No lesson was learned from that, and the next day, while I was warming my ass up (because no one tells you this, but your ass is the part of you that is most susceptible to cold by being sat on all the time) the Very Hot fire melted the inside of my winter-proof suit. The inside of my winter-proof suit is/was nylon. It is also weather-proof, and keeps out both the cold AND the heat, so in some ways, it is counter-productive. However, the melting wasn’t severe, and it didn’t adhere to much (except the suit I had on underneath that one, which didn’t melt, so that was OK). When another camper noticed I was steaming, I moved away. I went to sit down, and burned my poor ass, which was quite confused by then, and it cooled right down after that again. The extent of the melting wasn’t discovered until we went home.
However, back to New Year’s Eve. Drinking. Lots of rye. Rob was pouring my drinks and mixing them pretty lightly, so I wasn’t at all sure there was any rye in them, so I just had to drink them faster and faster. I had purchased, for the expedition, a gallon of rye. Yes, folks, you can get rye in gallon containers if you know where to shop! And not just bargain-basement rye, either, this stuff was pretty nice. At any rate, the only measure of consumption was the gallon jug, and by the end of the evening, I figure I had consumed about a third of it, although Rob had a rye, too, before he switched to beer and Black Russians (ugh!).
So by around 8p, I was slowing down. We had eaten dinner, and had been sitting around for about three hours by then, and that’s tiring stuff. So in a blatant attempt to keep me interested, Rob brought out the flaming cheese. We had arranged to make flaming cheese for the party, and it takes some coordination to achieve. Basically, you fry a wedge of cheese in butter, pour brandy over it, light it and then put out the ensuing fire with lemon juice (freshly-squeezed, if possible). So he fried the cheese, with my commentary, and I poured the brandy over it. He lit it and we both served it up. It was a hit! Even the lone lactose-intolerant member of the party ate the cheese. The one exception? Jones, who refused the tasty, tempting cheese at all costs.
Karaoke was brought out, and people sang. It was fantastic! But again, by around 10:30p, I was tired and wanted to go to bed. We had also agreed to provide “Sugar-on-Snow” for the party, which involves boiling maple syrup until it is thick enough (“soft-ball stage” on candy thermometers, for those of you that have them…), whereupon you drizzle it over packed snow. It hardens slightly, and you end up with maple taffy which you pick at with forks and eat until it is gone.
I was left in charge of boiling the syrup. There were several problems with this scenario. One, I was totally, totally drunk. Two, the pot I had been instructed to use was very large. Three, the thermometer I was using was not long enough to reach the syrup at the bottom of the pot, so I had to keep dipping it in with my gloves on (so I wouldn’t burn my hand on the steam) to check the temperature. You can see how the complicating factors might result in burned syrup? Well, they did. The syrup burned ever-so-slightly, and we poured it on the snow, and it was fine. I ate a bunch of it anyway. So did the dogs. Hopefully, people enjoyed it, but I couldn’t tell – I was totally drunk!
Soon enough, midnight rolled around. I had also procured rosé champagne for the outing, and left that in Rob’s capable, less drunken hands to open. However, as midnight rolled around (we could tell because we turned the radio on), Rob was nowhere to be seen! Where was he? I wandered around the cook-shelter, looking for him in case I just couldn’t see him because I was too drunk. No, he was definitely not in the shelter (there were very few places one could hide in the shelter). He was outside, peeing. Nice. Nice way to start the New Year. Looking for my guy, who was outside, peeing.
He was found, champagne was distributed, and after that, I was done. I went to bed. I am informed that I went to bed and passed right out, and that no amount of cajoling or light shaking could get me to move, so Rob rejoined the party, seeing that no action in the camper was available. I’m fine with that. I was sleeping. It was warm in the camper – it was suitably cold-proofed. There was the furnace running, a 3000-BTU heater running, a winter-weight sleeping bag beneath us above the mattress, a comforter above that, and a feather duvet above that, and another, thicker duvet to sleep beneath, as well as an electric blanket which wasn’t quite functional (thanks to Cooter, who has not learned the LESSON OF INEDIBLE THINGS).
The next day, we did not get up early. We got up very late. We slept in, and were warm. It was cold outside. When we finally did get up, Rob made croissants for breakfast, along with, as you’ve already guessed, BACON! Yay! I also had some cheese, because I like cheese.
We ate in the cook-shelter (since it was freezing cold outside, of course). We sat around the fire. The cook-shelter was a bit stinky, so one of the other girls and I looked all around for the source of the bad smell, which we couldn’t find. We played cribbage with Mark & Jen, who had just learned and were very keen on playing. It was fun. By the afternoon, I was ready to leave because the shelter had cooled-off somewhat and my ass was, again, cold (this was after the ass-melting incident). Rob had kindly started both my car and his truck to ensure we would be set to leave when we wanted to, so the car was warmed-up by then. Everything was packed-up and the NoodleDog and Cooter were loaded, and we were off to my house. Where we have a furnace and television and a stove and an oven to cook things.
We did not use the oven or the stove, we ordered pizza instead. Rob wasn’t feeling well by that night, and by the morning, he had a full-on case of the ‘flu. So it was a good thing we left when we did, because he was pretty sick. I opened my birthday presents anyway, and they were fantastic! I’m so lucky!!
That day, Rob did not make it far from the bed, so I walked the doggies, who were fine with that and weren’t even all that cold. I had on my winter-proof outfit (melted ass notwithstanding), so I wasn’t too cold. The one drawback to the winter-proof outfit is that it has no face protection. I have to get a scarf or some sort of wind-proof barrier I can put on over my neck and chin.
I also went for dinner with my family – we fondued. We have done this before, so you’d think we’d know what we’re doing, but we obviously do not. First off, my siblings were late to dinner, and since I had an ailing patient at home, I didn’t want to have to hang around too late. Secondly, the fondue pot I was at wasn’t functioning properly. It hadn’t been plugged-in properly, and wasn’t full enough of oil, so cooking the meat was an issue. Once we got everything going, though, it was a good time.
However, the post-dinner conversation degenerated once my father started talking about Alicia Silverstone, the Great Actress of Our Time. Apparently, he used to watch Miss Match, and has been a fan of Alicia’s since her Clueless days (which, by all accounts, have not ended). He even liked that one she did with Benicio Del Toro, which I can’t really argue with because I kind of laughed at it, too, since he was pretty cute as the hapless kidnapper-victim… Great acting, it was not, though. My father apparently believes that Alicia Silverstone “isn’t great-looking, but does a good job acting no matter what role she has”. Anyway, this statement started an argument with my brother, who countered with Meryl Streep as the Great Actress of Our Time, whereupon my father pooh-poohed her acting talents. His quote was “The only thing Meryl Streep is famous for is never doing two movies with the same accent. Hell, the only movie I can think of that she actually did in English was Bridges of Madison County…”
The entire table started yelling (not that they weren’t before) about actresses and acting ability, and Ashley Judd, Julianne Moore, and many others were brought up. I took this as a sign that I could leave, and did. I packed up my dogs and headed home to find Rob on the sofa, having tired of the bed. We sat and watched True Lies, the Movie That Never Ends. Seriously – we had gone to bed, after transferring to the upstairs TV to finish off the dumb movie, and it went on for 45 more minutes. It was painful, and I kind of hoped Arnie’s kid would fall off the stupid Harrier Jet.
And that was the weekend. I didn’t work yesterday, in case you were worried I had frozen to death in the wilderness. I hacked around. We drove to Rob’s place (the truck and camper needed to be brought home), and I went to Wal Mart on a relatively fruitless expedition in search of cat food. It was $0.40/can at Wal Mart, which I felt was too much. I then tried the Petcetera nearby, and found it there for $0.55/can, which was outrageous, so now I have to go BACK to Wal Mart again and battle the stupid crowds just to get cat food. Yeesh.
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m at work today.
When I arrived at the campsite on Friday afternoon, I was grouchy and irritable and it was cold outside. I’m afraid I wasn’t very forgiving about the whole idea, and it took a bit of convincing by Rob that I wasn’t going to freeze my ass off, but when I finally smartened up and went back outside clad in my winter-proof suits (fleece jump-suit beneath, winter-proof “big brown” style outerwear outside), I was fine.
The campsite was north of Waiporous in the Forestry Area. It only took me about an hour and a half to get there from my house, which was fine. I did get stuck in the snow when I got to the site for a few minutes, but got pushed out and managed to park the car. The NoodleDog wasn’t about to wait around for me to get parked, so he jumped out the window to play with all the other dogs. He took a particular liking to poor Sancho and followed him around the entire time we were there. I think it might be loooove.
New Year’s Eve dinner consisted of hot dogs, because it was too much of a pain to cook the pork chops we had brought. I didn’t care – hot dogs were fine by me. I was hungry by then. And it was cold, so drinking was commenced immediately. The action was centered in a cook-shelter that was at the site – it was an octagonal structure about 70 feet in diameter with three picnic tables and a fireplace opposite the door. There was, indeed, a propane heater set up inside the structure, although I’m informed it was all perfectly safe.
Installing myself in front of the fire, I ate dinner and chatted with the other seemingly insane campers. The fire was Very Hot. It was so hot, in fact, that Rob burned the seat out of his pants just by standing in front of it. No lesson was learned from that, and the next day, while I was warming my ass up (because no one tells you this, but your ass is the part of you that is most susceptible to cold by being sat on all the time) the Very Hot fire melted the inside of my winter-proof suit. The inside of my winter-proof suit is/was nylon. It is also weather-proof, and keeps out both the cold AND the heat, so in some ways, it is counter-productive. However, the melting wasn’t severe, and it didn’t adhere to much (except the suit I had on underneath that one, which didn’t melt, so that was OK). When another camper noticed I was steaming, I moved away. I went to sit down, and burned my poor ass, which was quite confused by then, and it cooled right down after that again. The extent of the melting wasn’t discovered until we went home.
However, back to New Year’s Eve. Drinking. Lots of rye. Rob was pouring my drinks and mixing them pretty lightly, so I wasn’t at all sure there was any rye in them, so I just had to drink them faster and faster. I had purchased, for the expedition, a gallon of rye. Yes, folks, you can get rye in gallon containers if you know where to shop! And not just bargain-basement rye, either, this stuff was pretty nice. At any rate, the only measure of consumption was the gallon jug, and by the end of the evening, I figure I had consumed about a third of it, although Rob had a rye, too, before he switched to beer and Black Russians (ugh!).
So by around 8p, I was slowing down. We had eaten dinner, and had been sitting around for about three hours by then, and that’s tiring stuff. So in a blatant attempt to keep me interested, Rob brought out the flaming cheese. We had arranged to make flaming cheese for the party, and it takes some coordination to achieve. Basically, you fry a wedge of cheese in butter, pour brandy over it, light it and then put out the ensuing fire with lemon juice (freshly-squeezed, if possible). So he fried the cheese, with my commentary, and I poured the brandy over it. He lit it and we both served it up. It was a hit! Even the lone lactose-intolerant member of the party ate the cheese. The one exception? Jones, who refused the tasty, tempting cheese at all costs.
Karaoke was brought out, and people sang. It was fantastic! But again, by around 10:30p, I was tired and wanted to go to bed. We had also agreed to provide “Sugar-on-Snow” for the party, which involves boiling maple syrup until it is thick enough (“soft-ball stage” on candy thermometers, for those of you that have them…), whereupon you drizzle it over packed snow. It hardens slightly, and you end up with maple taffy which you pick at with forks and eat until it is gone.
I was left in charge of boiling the syrup. There were several problems with this scenario. One, I was totally, totally drunk. Two, the pot I had been instructed to use was very large. Three, the thermometer I was using was not long enough to reach the syrup at the bottom of the pot, so I had to keep dipping it in with my gloves on (so I wouldn’t burn my hand on the steam) to check the temperature. You can see how the complicating factors might result in burned syrup? Well, they did. The syrup burned ever-so-slightly, and we poured it on the snow, and it was fine. I ate a bunch of it anyway. So did the dogs. Hopefully, people enjoyed it, but I couldn’t tell – I was totally drunk!
Soon enough, midnight rolled around. I had also procured rosé champagne for the outing, and left that in Rob’s capable, less drunken hands to open. However, as midnight rolled around (we could tell because we turned the radio on), Rob was nowhere to be seen! Where was he? I wandered around the cook-shelter, looking for him in case I just couldn’t see him because I was too drunk. No, he was definitely not in the shelter (there were very few places one could hide in the shelter). He was outside, peeing. Nice. Nice way to start the New Year. Looking for my guy, who was outside, peeing.
He was found, champagne was distributed, and after that, I was done. I went to bed. I am informed that I went to bed and passed right out, and that no amount of cajoling or light shaking could get me to move, so Rob rejoined the party, seeing that no action in the camper was available. I’m fine with that. I was sleeping. It was warm in the camper – it was suitably cold-proofed. There was the furnace running, a 3000-BTU heater running, a winter-weight sleeping bag beneath us above the mattress, a comforter above that, and a feather duvet above that, and another, thicker duvet to sleep beneath, as well as an electric blanket which wasn’t quite functional (thanks to Cooter, who has not learned the LESSON OF INEDIBLE THINGS).
The next day, we did not get up early. We got up very late. We slept in, and were warm. It was cold outside. When we finally did get up, Rob made croissants for breakfast, along with, as you’ve already guessed, BACON! Yay! I also had some cheese, because I like cheese.
We ate in the cook-shelter (since it was freezing cold outside, of course). We sat around the fire. The cook-shelter was a bit stinky, so one of the other girls and I looked all around for the source of the bad smell, which we couldn’t find. We played cribbage with Mark & Jen, who had just learned and were very keen on playing. It was fun. By the afternoon, I was ready to leave because the shelter had cooled-off somewhat and my ass was, again, cold (this was after the ass-melting incident). Rob had kindly started both my car and his truck to ensure we would be set to leave when we wanted to, so the car was warmed-up by then. Everything was packed-up and the NoodleDog and Cooter were loaded, and we were off to my house. Where we have a furnace and television and a stove and an oven to cook things.
We did not use the oven or the stove, we ordered pizza instead. Rob wasn’t feeling well by that night, and by the morning, he had a full-on case of the ‘flu. So it was a good thing we left when we did, because he was pretty sick. I opened my birthday presents anyway, and they were fantastic! I’m so lucky!!
That day, Rob did not make it far from the bed, so I walked the doggies, who were fine with that and weren’t even all that cold. I had on my winter-proof outfit (melted ass notwithstanding), so I wasn’t too cold. The one drawback to the winter-proof outfit is that it has no face protection. I have to get a scarf or some sort of wind-proof barrier I can put on over my neck and chin.
I also went for dinner with my family – we fondued. We have done this before, so you’d think we’d know what we’re doing, but we obviously do not. First off, my siblings were late to dinner, and since I had an ailing patient at home, I didn’t want to have to hang around too late. Secondly, the fondue pot I was at wasn’t functioning properly. It hadn’t been plugged-in properly, and wasn’t full enough of oil, so cooking the meat was an issue. Once we got everything going, though, it was a good time.
However, the post-dinner conversation degenerated once my father started talking about Alicia Silverstone, the Great Actress of Our Time. Apparently, he used to watch Miss Match, and has been a fan of Alicia’s since her Clueless days (which, by all accounts, have not ended). He even liked that one she did with Benicio Del Toro, which I can’t really argue with because I kind of laughed at it, too, since he was pretty cute as the hapless kidnapper-victim… Great acting, it was not, though. My father apparently believes that Alicia Silverstone “isn’t great-looking, but does a good job acting no matter what role she has”. Anyway, this statement started an argument with my brother, who countered with Meryl Streep as the Great Actress of Our Time, whereupon my father pooh-poohed her acting talents. His quote was “The only thing Meryl Streep is famous for is never doing two movies with the same accent. Hell, the only movie I can think of that she actually did in English was Bridges of Madison County…”
The entire table started yelling (not that they weren’t before) about actresses and acting ability, and Ashley Judd, Julianne Moore, and many others were brought up. I took this as a sign that I could leave, and did. I packed up my dogs and headed home to find Rob on the sofa, having tired of the bed. We sat and watched True Lies, the Movie That Never Ends. Seriously – we had gone to bed, after transferring to the upstairs TV to finish off the dumb movie, and it went on for 45 more minutes. It was painful, and I kind of hoped Arnie’s kid would fall off the stupid Harrier Jet.
And that was the weekend. I didn’t work yesterday, in case you were worried I had frozen to death in the wilderness. I hacked around. We drove to Rob’s place (the truck and camper needed to be brought home), and I went to Wal Mart on a relatively fruitless expedition in search of cat food. It was $0.40/can at Wal Mart, which I felt was too much. I then tried the Petcetera nearby, and found it there for $0.55/can, which was outrageous, so now I have to go BACK to Wal Mart again and battle the stupid crowds just to get cat food. Yeesh.
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m at work today.
