Sanna's Bag

“I never seem to have what I need when I need it. I’m going to make a belt-bag that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, and just carry everything with me.”

Thursday, July 06, 2006

The trip

Washington State is not overly generous with directional highway signs. Their attitude seems to be, "If you don't know where you are going, you shouldn't be here." DH and I, however, are intrepid adventurers with innate sense of direction, and adequate map skills. We back-tracked once or twice, and took a slightly more scenic route than we had planned. But on the way, we saw a garage sale where they were actually selling a garage, all packed up on a flat-bed trailer and ready to roll. Soon after that, we merged with a convoy of silver trailers, and decided that, as wildebeasts and sheep travel in flocks, Airstreams must travel in gusts. And, as a group of geese in the air is a skein, and a group of geese on the ground is a gaggle, then a group of Airstreams meeting together in a campground must be a confluence. (And a group of flying fish, in the water is a flotilla, and in the air is a squadron.)

Once we found our way onto the penninsula, our host's house was easy to find. They joined us the next day, bringing two teenaged boys, one 12 year-old, a grandma, and a dog. The boys are usually referred to as, "the man-cubs" but here at the beach house, in combination with an overgrown lot and a machete, they become, "The whacker Brothers." I think every teenaged boy should have amachete and a quantity of downed limbs and overgrown undergrowth on which to vent excess testosterone. Remarkably satisfactory combination for all concerned.

On the 4th, the old grey wolves took the man-cubs down to the beach and constructed a truely workmanlike bonfire. Three big driftwood logs to give it substance, quantities of yard debris to build some quick coal, and all the paper plates and bacon grease from breakfast for quick ignition. The man-cubs took turns guarding it during the afternoon and at 7, the rest of the pack assembled. Mother wolf did the hearth-goddess honors and the festivities began. The two teen boys had their own roman candles which they began lighting off at 8ish. Still broad daylight, but you could still see the glowing balls and hear the whoomps as they fired off. By sunset, there was a light-show going on clear up and down the beach. As the night grew darker, the effects improved. Of course, by the time the darkness was complete, the teens had used up all their fireworks. the old grey wolves, however, kept pulling out bigger and bigger packages of stuff. It was really quite wonderful. I didn't expect to enjoy myslef nearly as much as I did. Being outside minimalized the accoustic damage. And really, as far as you could see to left and right, there were beautiful red and white and yellow and blue fireworks. Thirty foot fountains of sparks, and star shells, and chrysanthemums, and rockets and dancing bees . . . the low clouds reflected the light in flashes and bursts, and I was so excited by the whole thing that I stayed awake untill midnight. This is a virtually unknown phenomenen! It was wayyyyy cool!

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