Here are some of the things I remember:
After I wrapped a towel around my waist to stay warm at night:
Linz: It looks like you're wearing a sarong.
Me: How could it be a sarong when it feels so right?
Me: Mormon feminist housewives? That has to be like 3 people!
#1 Dad: And they're all married to the same guy!
Someone: I wonder what Hines is up to right now?
Joynt: He's probably playing testes toss too.
During the first night, Jared and I decided it would be better to find wood in the forest rather than use the wood Joynt had brought up. So we embarked with our axe into the dark depths of the wooded peninsula. Shortly we found a smallish (yet tall enough) dead tree that would probably be sufficient for a whole weekend of firewood. We made quick work of it, and through the large end into the fire. We quickly spotted another, much thicker, dead tree, and decided to fell this one as well. The decision was mainly based on a desire to swing the axe some more. Post hoc analysis said that it was a good idea because clearing dead trees opens up light for smaller trees, and something about getting it ready for when we'll actually need it at Sausage Fest XV.
This one took quite a bit longer, but we got it down. Yet our insatiable apetite for destruction lingered on. This time, we found another tree, a white birch. In case you're not as much of a woodsman as I am, white birch is like the oily rag of the tree family, due to it's paper like bark. Using this justification, we decided to fell another beast of a tree.
For this last tree, we were starting to draw attention from our other camping friends, who were wondering a) why we were still chopping down trees despite the fire produced by our first felled tree, which was big and hot enough that local blacksmiths started using it to make horseshoes, and b) how we had gone as long as we had chopping down trees with a dull axe while intoxicated without killing ourselves. So, first all the guys came into the woods, and we all took turns on the biggest dead tree we could find. By this point, mine and Jared's hands were basically covered in bloody blisters from the wooden axe handle, so it was good to get some relief. A few minutes later, the girls joined us, and they all took some real solid swings at the tree, which did all the real weakening of the tree for when Jared later finished the job. Oh yeah, it was like pitch black out by this point, and we were chopping by flashlights. If someone were making the "don'ts" section for a camping safety instructional video, they could've just filmed our weekend. Anyways, it was so much fun, I'm thinking of starting my own Lumberjack Club, like Fight Club without as much blood.
During the days we went to Peninsula Park and played beach volleyball. While there, a 40-something guy named Grayson would ride up on his bike each day and just sit and stretch by the volleyball court until someone asked him to play. This is frustrating enough, because why wouldn't you just ask if you could play? But then once he got in, the real frustration began. After every. single. play. he would offer a "tip," or encouragement, or just mutter something incoherent. Everytime I mishit the ball (which is quite often), he would say "well you got it up in the air," as if I appeared so retarded he might expect me just to spike the ball into the ground directly beneath me. Then, after the game, he said, "Well, I've gotta go chop some firewood." He said this both days, once at around 2 in the afternoon. This is another annoying thing to me, when people feel like they have to make some dumb excuse to leave. I've always thought it would be cool to have (or be!) a friend, who, when he wanted to leave, just said "I'm gonna go," and just sprinted out the door, never giving any explanation.
Posted by mill1991 at July 5, 2005 04:36 PM
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