Don't Leave Me!

November should bring you at least a brain-fart every day! Stay tuned!

Yet Another Post About Cereal

The first time I ever went camping was when I was 10 or 11. We camped at Lake George, NY, in a pop-up trailer. I'm not quite sure why we went there instead of one of the many beautiful spots on this side of the border, but I do remember my stepmother making a run to Montgomery ward to buy a microwave oven, which would have been much cheaper in the U.S. back then. I guess that was enough to draw us State-side.

During this trip, I had a blast. I loved camping, eating outside, playing with the campfire, playing a five hour game of risk, visiting a couple of amusement parks, playing Pac Man in the building at the front gate of the camp ground, and whatever else we did. I remember excitedly telling my mom's friend about my trip and how much I loved it. When she asked me what I liked best, I replied, "Breakfast!" My mom's friend nodded in agreement, and talked about the beauty of eating breakfast outside in the cool morning air, birds chirping, dew on the grass, etc. I then replied, "Well, actually, it was the amazing American cereals that made it so great." I was of course referring to Cookie Crisp, or my other poison de jour, Dinky Donuts. I seemed to have a strong appreciation for foods made by Ralston Purina. No wonder I'm so short.

Anyhow, just before labour day, I took Pumpkin on a one-night camping trip along with my friend and her four year old daughter. It was supposed to be for the whole week-end, but the weather was crap, so we opted for just one night so as not to disappoint and cancel altogether. We did our best to busy the girls with the campfire, playing at the beach, cooking hot dogs, going to the playground, going for ice cream, playing 'house' in the tent, and taking long walks in the cold, pre-autumn rain.

Just last week, Pumpkin started talking about the trip and asked to go camping again, which really delighted me. I asked her what she liked best about camping, and she replied, "Eating Corn Pops!"

And so we begin a new generation of fond childhood memories formed around a box of sugar. Could this be hereditary?