These aren't the quail we saw. Still, how can you resist the little topknots?
The quail came at just the right time to distract us. I was feeling tense because I was driving and we were in a caravan with friends. I am semi-tense by nature and the caravan thing was making me nervous. To add to my tension, we had forgotten pillows. I am sure there are many people who would scoff at the idea of camping with pillows. We, however, are camping wimps.
We realized that we had forgotten pillows before we got to Visalia. Visalia was our best pillow opportunity. I got tense about making unauthorized and unplanned stops in the caravan and didn't stop. I told Honey that we'd find LOTS of pillows in the tiny town of Three Rivers. When that looked like a no go, we made a plan to fool the maid at one of the motels there. Honey would pretend to be drowning and I would steal pillows off her cart. If someone other than the maid tried to save her, she would insist that she needed the maid to save her.
Anyway, the quail distracted us from the pillow crisis for the moment.
As we drove into the park, Honey began to look through the CDs I had in the little blue truck. They're the same CDs I always have in the little blue truck and none of them suited her. This caused her to begin to sing DonnaFreakingFargo (DFF) loudly and out-of-tune as I wound up the mountain. I was more than a little nauseated. It was probably the Mexican food we had for lunch. There are other suspects.
We went to the supply shop in the park and found the "amazing exploding pillows." Here's Honey to demonstrate this wonder of technology for you.
Here's the pillow in its "compact" state:
Here it is in its "expanded" state:
Honey can barely contain her surprise!
The evening proceeding in a camping-type fashion, with dogs (of hot), s'mores, and a roaring fire. Our sporks (NOT foons) came in handy. That's because sporks are always handy.
We were camping in bear country. The bear hysteria is high. So high that there was concern around camp (doesn't that sound so outdoorsy?) about graham cracker crumbs dropped on the ground and backwash into Nalgene bottles. Every camp site gets a bear box. Here's the sign on it:
Good to know that fun can happen after food storage but not before. We didn't see any bears. The people in the site next to us, who were playing do-wop well into the night and decided to inflate their air mattress after 11pm, thought they saw bears. Bears don't like do-wop and so they weren't actually there. I took the gamble and took my Nalgene bottle to bed. I'm not sure how much I backwash, but we made it through the night.
Actually, I didn't sleep well and got a cramp in my leg at about 1am. I went to the car to try to stretch out a little. While lying, in pain, in the car, I could not get DFF out of my head. I blame Honey and Wendy.
In the morning I was walking to the bathroom and encountered a mule deer munching on some bark. She looked up and let out a small cough as I approached. I kept walking toward her, trying to give her wide berth. She filled her lungs and coughed LOUDLY at me. I went around the other way. I had no idea deer could be that loud. There was a lot of ear flicking as well (on her part, not mine).
On the way out of the park the next day Honey asked me if I had any new CDs in my car since yesterday. Since the Lodgepole store hadn't been any better at CDs than it had been at pillows (I think there were some new-agey ones), we had the same selection we had the day before. Honey again launched into her medley of "Happiest Girl" (she did change the pronouns, which was sweet) and "You Can't Be a Beacon." We compromised on Alanis Morrisette.
I have a few new camping tips:
1. Remember pillows.
2. Store food, then have fun.
3. Give the deer room.
4. Bring better CDs
5. See quail, if possible.
6. Claim Your National Park soon. There aren't enough to go around.
10 comments:
Out of tune? Out of tune?! While it's true that no one can match the sheer glory of the inimitable DonnaFreakingFargo, I believe I paid her handsome tribute.
You know, don't you, that the title of this entry makes it seem as though the deer coughed bits, which is so much less charming than its intended, "Ahem, grazing here."
My exploding pillow was so very satisfying that I have begun to use it at home in place of my memory-foam pillow. Oh, wait, no I haven't.
There was some spray from the deer. I may have the plague. I'm being brave about it.
Would it be insensitive to say I've heard quail are good eats?
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow, but in a pinch an amazing exploding pillow will do?
What the heck is a Nalgene bottle? Are they fun to sleep with?
About the bear sign. It mentions removing baby seats from the car. Do you know why?
Oh. And Wendy never sings out of tune.
I guess babies get their seats so dirty they can't ever stop smelling like food or other bear appealling scents.
Nalgene bottles are those plastic bottles that don't leech plastic-yuckness into your water. They're good to sleep with in the sense that water is nice to have in the middle of the night if you're thirsty.
If I could have a CD of Wendy singing, scout may be happier in my car.
Can we go back a few DonnaFreakingFargo comments to where this all began? I published an innocent little vignette about an infomercial. I referenced many different country music artists (most of the male, oddly enough.) Scout started the singing. Scout invoked specific Donna Fargo lyrics. Repeatedly. Scout continued to sing. And apparently, Scout began singing off-key. Therefore, it is my contention that I am undeserving of the guilt you so callously assign to me. I am, at most, an unwitting catalyst in the force that has become "DonnaFreakingFargo."
Ok, ok. You're right Wendy. I forget (because I love her) how very evil scout can be. You should take responsibility for the "DonnaFreakingFargo" nomenclature. Will you own that, at least?
Well, yes.
Hear me, oh blogosphere, I am Wendy, Queen of Laundry and Firebuilding, Catalyst of Evil Lyric-Writing Episodes, and Augmenter of Classic Vocalists' Names.
I hope that's suffreakingficient.
eb, based upon Howard Dean's self-destruction in the form of enthusiastically yelling, I'm not sure maniacal speech patterns are ideal campaign-enhancers.
I mean, gee, you're already having to do damage control in an attempt to regain the foon vote.
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