TNG

It has happened. The bug has descended upon me, and it bit, hard. I'm talking about my annual camp-preparation bug. He's sort of kept his distance for the past two years because I was in a fog of baby-wranglin' and couldn't be bothered. It was a damn miracle I got out of the house every day in my bleary new-mama-smell state, and camping was an afterthought. We still went of course, but the preparation was shamefully half-assed. It goes to show that it doesn't matter what goes into it, actually, because we still had a blast in the disorganized mess (or were too tired and overwhelmed to notice any difference in the chaos). The point is, now that we've pretty much sent HR out to the free range to raise himself, I've gotten back into the groove of my former obsession. My lists have lists, and I can't stop fiddling with them. I have a plan. And a plan to back up that plan. I can confidently say that this will be the best year ever, all thanks to my ingenious organization skills.

Or, despite my best efforts and I just end up throwing everything in garbage bags and calling it a day, it will still be the best year ever.  Because--and I know that it's at this point due to my efforts as the one-woman hype-machine behind this particular vacation, but still--my kid is actually psyched about it. He has a clear idea of what we'll be doing and who we'll be seeing, he seems to look forward to it and makes references to it all the time. We'll see how it actually goes when we get to hour 48 without so much as an "Old MacDonald" youtube clip (oh, how I will not miss those), but I think I've already done my job as a Small Point indoctrinator Perry to get him hooked on the loud, dirty, wonderful free-for-all that is two weeks on an island with my family. If you are not a fan of our collective, here's your chance to eradicate us all at once 'cause the gang will all be there. Oh but I kid, who couldn't love us?

Apropos of nothing but mama love and body acceptance: my friend Jim took this picture when we camped out together a couple weekends ago. He sent it to me privately instead of posting it, I'm assuming because he knows that people are sensitive about things like cellulite and it was very considerate of him. But I think it's such a great shot, and there are so few pics of just my boy and me together, I say never mind all that and here we are. It's a true sign that my vanity is on the wane though, because aside from the fact that I'm putting it out there, I didn't even think to start nitpicking at my appearance until like the tenth time I looked at it. Thanks Jim, for your photography skills as well as your kindness.

I heard this on the radio yesterday.



OH MY GOD NIKI AND HEIDI REMEMBER HOW MUCH WE LOVED THIS SONG? I have the cassingle somewhere in the ancestral home, I'm sure. I had no idea who Mick Jones was at the time! Can you imagine?