Staying Out of Trouble

I haven’t been blogging this week because, frankly, there is nothing to blog about.

I spent the entire week driving the kids to Sunflower Farms camp in Longmont. Even though it is only a 20 minute drive, between the commute, getting everyone settled, and driving back it’s easily a one hour endeavor.

It’s worth it, though. It’s truly the most magical camp I’ve ever seen.

IMG_1476Each day the kids tell me about what they did. One day it was capture the flag in the quiet forest, the other it was a kids against grownups shaving cream fight, and the best was the mud pit.

A chicken surveys the carnage of the shaving cream fight.

A chicken surveys the carnage of the shaving cream fight.

There is a dedicated mud pit on site with showers and hoses to get them clean although they had plenty of mud where the sun doesn’t shine when they got home.


The ride back takes even longer because I usually have to run each kid down and keep them from getting distracted and disappearing after a chicken while I find the others. Then it requires physical force and screaming to get them into the car.


The chicken whisperer

Every kid should be so lucky.

I figure that if I’m going to make the drive I might as well bring as many kids as my van will hold.

Not your mama's mini-van

Not your mama’s mini-van

I like scoring brownie points with other moms in the event I need a favor.

I take advantage of my captive audience to educate them on old fashioned music. They are surprisingly receptive.

They’ve been listening to The Clash, Rolling Stones, Roxy Music, David Bowie, Johnny Cash, Beastie Boys, Violent Femmes, Campervan Beethoven, Depeche Mode, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Talking Heads, Kraftwerk and more. It’s been a blast rocking out with them.

Instead of driving back and forth each day (if I go home, it’s roughly two-and-a-half hours of my time for a four hour camp) I stay put in Longmont. I’ve haunted many of the nearby places for free wi-fi and have my favorites.

Modmarket has, hands down, the best food. Starbucks is FUCKING FREEZING inside. Seriously, why would you climate control all your locations around the country (if not the globe for all I know) from Seattle?

Panera has better climate control and a nice outdoor seating area and Great Harvest gives out free slices of buttered bread that I give to the kids on the ride back.

Warm buttered bread on the way home

Warm buttered bread on the way home

I wish I could say that I frequented local establishments, but the area I was in was strip-mall city.

I spent my four hours working on my computer to get myself ready for our upcoming trip.

I wish I could just turn off the lights and lock up the house when I left, knowing that I would return to find it exactly the way it was when I left, but I can’t. My house is like its own microcosmos that must be kept running and alive while I’m gone.

Hence I spent an entire morning at Kinko’s typing up anal retentive instructions about how to take care of the cat (don’t let her out of the cage so she can 1. heal and 2. not pee all over the bed), the dog (don’t freak if he doesn’t eat for two days and don’t let him bark at the neighbors like he did last time), the hermit crabs (buy new ones if they die), the rental units (pages of instructions), the plants, eBay, etc.

I also wrote my one paid piece of writing that I do a year for the Boulder Magazine.


My baby

This is my 10th year writing their fall fashion piece. My editor likes everything I write, which is unbelievable to me. I was certain that blogging non-stop for a year has turned me into an illiterate rambler. Apparently it works for fashion.

The only Viv Moment I had this week has been my infatuation with the camp counselor. I think of him as Baby Bobby because he looks like a younger version of Cushie’s impossibly hot husband.

I felt kind of (kind of) dirty about lusting after a teenager, which turned out to be nothing compared to the horror I felt when the boys told me that he was in his 30s and engaged to be married!

Holy shit, when did 30 start looking so young? I feel so fucking old.

In other news, my Awesome Sauce had her baby and I got to have a dose of that newborn goodness all for myself.

Here’s a picture of Blue not looking either stupid or like a grazing ruminant.


Good news, my bangs are growing out nicely. I like my forehead.

Photo on 7-9-14 at 9.50 AM

I don’t know how much I’ll be blogging between now and Tuesday, what with the travel preparations and all. I’m sure I’ll write a good and irritated during the FORTY HOUR DRIVE (one way) from here to Maine.


6 thoughts on “Staying Out of Trouble

  1. Oh gosh! I forgot about that. Can’t you just strap your mattress on top of your car and take it with you just in case in a sort of National Lampoon vacation type deal. Except its the mattress, not gramma?? I can’t wait until you get there, you need a break with kids out playing and adults on their own. Hang in there Viv!

  2. For all you know, Baby Bobby could be lying about his age to the kids. One of my favorite parts about being a camp counselor was making up ridiculous stories about my “real life” to children. I’d always overshoot though and tell kids things like I was 1057 years old and a Were-Moose, so they rarely actually believed me. I always felt like they had a spark of doubt in their eyes though…Maybe I really was those things…

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