Wednesday, March 26, 2008

When Vacations Stink

We are continuing this week’s vacation stories with a camping story by Teri Brown, author of, Read My Lips. This story isn’t fishy, but it does smell…

My family went camping quite a bit when I was a kid. When we lived in Arizona, our favorite place was White Horse Lake where my parents could fish and I could play in the woods near the lake. One evening we were standing around our campfire roasting marshmallows when a foul scent permeated our campsite. We began sniffing in puzzlement when my Mom screamed from the doorway of our trailer, “Skunk!”

Turns out skunks can’t resist the scent of marshmallows either and had come to investigate. I’d never had a run in with our aroma challenged friends before and froze with my mallow still in the fire. My dad leapt onto the picnic table and told me to run to the camper. I did run, roasting stick and all. By the time I got inside, my marshmallow was flaming and Mom and I tried to blow on it while I waved it around in my excitement. It wasn’t just one skunk, however, but a whole family of them and we watched helplessly why they polished off our bag of marshmallows.

The skunk family visited the campground every evening in search of marshmallows, but that’s okay. I learned to eat them on the run.

Now Jody Feldman, author of The Gollywhopper Games, gives us a little glimpse into what vacations were like in her family!

Imagine three kids sharing a backseat on a cross-country trip. We’re talking 8-hour driving days, my two younger brothers and me. And we’re back there getting tired and needing to stretch out. But with only 18 inches or so per bottom – because, did I mention there were three of us, sharing that backseat? – stretching out was impossible. So what’s a big sister to do? It’s up to the big sister to suggest that the little brother would be oh-so-comfortable, stretched out, all by himself on the floor, transmission hump and all. I suppose I must have been pretty convincing back then.


Ellen Booraem said...

Good thing you didn't have a dog with you, Teri--especially so far from tomato juice.

And only you could make a transmission hump look comfy, Jody.

Anonymous said...

It's a good thing I don't really like marshmallows. I usually just eat the chocolate bar part of s'mores, and I don't need a campfire for that.

You guys make me laugh!