A post in which I buy my first real toys, and get my camp job done

Today started out the best way for a camp out to start. I got up and went to the lodge for coffee on the smoking porch as the sun came up. The woods are gorgeous, and Mother Nature has all the plants decked out in finery for the weekend. It’s that time of year in the south when everything blooms, and aggressively green shoots are just aching upwards everywhere.

After breakfast, the vendors set up. There was one AMAZING man – Gene Whitesides - selling beautiful hand-made paddles and canes in all varieties of gorgeous and exotic wood. Absolutely works of art, sanded to a glossy gleam and waxed, not varnished. I was immediately drawn to the table. Now paddles aren’t something I ever thought I would like, but Ms Shay made me love them when she used hers on me for the first time. There were many pretty ones, but the curly maple in particular caught my eye. The grain of the wood was so outstanding. But I only had $50 with me. I talked to Beth when she came in to look, and she told me that the prices on these pieces were very cheap. She said painted paddles with not anywhere near this level of workmanship sold for almost twice as much. I really wanted more than one, so I had to decide which ones I would pick. That took a while. I finally took Billy over with me, and we looked together. I finally decided I had to have the curly maple frat paddle, and really wanted a long “slapper” that matched to go with it. Billy told me he and Russ would go in on the slapper with me so I could get both.

I went on, very happy, but then found myself wandering back through the vendor area. There were two other matching pieces as well: a round “ping pong” type paddle, and a shorter slapper. I had showed my first two to a couple of people who told me that the long slapper I had would probably break eventually. I figured the shorter one would be more sturdy, as well as being more versatile. Mr. Whitesides kindly offered to hold them for me until I could get to the ATM a bit later. His partner was very nice as well. They were just super folks, but then I tend to meet super folks at LOCK.

I had helped clean up a bit after breakfast, but left one of the pans to soak. Apparently they had done an egg casserole without spraying or buttering the pan first. Even after soaking, it was a big job scrubbing that thing. All I had was a little non-stick scrubber, and it just wasn't cutting it. I ended up having to get a spatula and scrape the whole thing down, then scrub it to get it clean. It was a chore.

After a bit more visiting, I went home to assemble desserts. I was in a tither. Getting the desserts to the camp out intact is the most nerve-wracking part. I’m always afraid that something is going to fall apart or get dropped. First, when I got to the house, the bathroom had been trashed again. I got a broom and cleaned up a bit. I started putting the dream whip together for the trifle, and realized I had made a mistake, so I had to run back to the store for more mix. With a (lot) more mix though, it went together fine. I finished up what I was doing, straightened up, and started getting ready to head back up the mountain. When I got out my glaze for the cake, though, it had separated. I was upset, because I thought the glaze was so good. But I stuck it in the car with my cornstarch, and just headed back.

Into interminable traffic. First, I ran into a funeral on Augusta road. When I finally got through that, some ancient woman decided she had to turn left – while all the backed up traffic from the funeral tried to get through. When I finally got around her, there was a bicycle in my lane – in the middle of the lane – refusing to let the traffic by. Then the city had shut down Main Street for yet another dildonic street festival. By the time I got through downtown, I was a nervous wreck. I had a fragile, recently mixed whipped cream trifle in the car, plus two icebox pies, and it was 89 degrees. I had the air on full blast, but my nerves were shot.

I managed to get everything back to the campground OK, and had helpers to get it all inside. I paid for my paddles and got them back to the cabin, and then just tried to chill out a bit before dinner.

When dinner time came, I was out on the smoking porch. People started showing up dressed and I went on back and put on my outfit, my super-slutty jeans (which – yay! – I’m back down into) and a purple fairy t-shirt I bought for the camp out but have never worn. I thought I looked pretty good. I got back in time to go in and for the announcements to start. While everyone ate, I started slicing things and getting them ready to put out. When I went to take the icebox pies out, I realized that I had left the rice crispy treats in the fridge. I popped them in to make sure the chocolate was firmed up, but intended to leave them in only for an hour. They were still in, and the chocolate on top was hard as a brick. There was nothing to do but start trying to carve them up. I got a decent knife, but it wouldn’t work as far as the sides go, and my arm was wearing out. I got a cleaver, which worked OK since I could slice down into them, but then the cleaver handle broke.

Meanwhile, the kitchen is roasting and I am trying not to let sweat from my face get in anything. I had a paper towel to blot with, but it got in the chocolate crumbs and I smeared chocolate all over my face. I went and washed my face. I eventually got everything cut up and plated, and ate a bite of supper. After I ate, I went out on the porch for a mo, and looked for Kay to find out when I should serve dessert. As I was asking where she was, I heard a chorus from inside “DES-SERT! DES-SERT! DES-SERT!!” I decided just to go back in and serve. I grabbed some guys, put my toppy boots on, and started giving orders. While I was heating the glaze for the cake, they got everything else out and ready to go.

Dessert was a huge success – probably the best one since I have been doing them. People come expecting to be wowed, and save room. When I ducked back through the dining room to see how things were going, I got a spontaneous round of applause, and many compliments. It was very gratifying. That’s one of the best things about cooking for LOCK. People realize that you’ve gone to trouble for them and they really appreciate it. I get my best feedback from LOCK. It was worth every minute of work I put in this week.