This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle. There’s a lot of things I get carried away with. Being handsome. Being perfect. Being demanding. Arresting. Arresting. Arresting.
But the last week in this Georgia place, we almost gotten carried away. Literally. Have you ever been so uncomfortable and in so much turmoil that you just wanna jump into the shower because you just want to wash away your day? But then you remember that the showers at camp are prison showers. And you just say, never mind? Yeah.
First of all, Girl Person started itching. Itching on her feet. On her head. And everywhere else. Poison. Dern. Ivy. She had to take two showers a day. And then we started getting bugs all over us. Ticks and flies and it all. So we had to get three baths a day. There wasn’t enough soap to wash away our attitude. Because it was hot. Humid. The air conditioning was struggling. And so was our resolve to be model campers.
Sure. We like to be proper. Not make a scene. To at least pretend we are enjoying the day with poison ivy and yellow flies in 100 degree heat. But when the ants came out? We tried to laugh about it. But then, we didn’t. We almost got carried away.
Every time Girl Person would put down her backpack, they would try to carry it off. Despite the fact there was nothing but water inside, they didn’t care. They wanted a home inside. And then they tried to get everyone’s shoes. And chair. And bikes. And well. Girl Person had had. It. With a sound so not of a happy camper, she told the ants that maybe they would stop if she put the backpack in the washer. She said “How do you like that? Well? Bite me again on my poison ivy feet and you will be as clean as an ant at a spa. And there ain’t no spa for ants.” So I didn’t get it.
Girl Person carried that backpack to the washer, as they bit her arm and she just had had it.
Again. She put in the soap. She looked at her backpack. She looked at her dinosaur swollen feet and speckled legs and arms and she sighed.
“Get out of this backpack, folks. No spa is worth your life. I’m giving you a chance. Surrender. Go away. Tell all your friends you drove a happy camper with poison ivy to insanity by biting her. Tell all your friends it was a good party on her dinosaur legs. Do whatever you have to do. Just. Scram”.
They seemed to listen. Rather well. And Girl Person felt ok about her decision not to take them to the spa. But then, right as she loaded the backpack in the washer, there he was. One Lone Ranger.
And he was now inside the washer. The water was about to come on. Girl Person felt so bad she reached inside and so nicely put him on her speckled arm to get him out. And. He. Bit. Her.
Now. If you’ve ever seen someone yell at an ant and a washing machine pouring water all over her, you have a story to tell. If not, I implore you to picture Girl Person and her poison ivy, dinosaur legs and her unhappy camper attitude as she’s yelling at aforementioned ant. And then imagine you’re her camping neighbor. And you wonder why you picked that spot. And right when that person reaches her breaking point, you decide to turn up your radio real loud.
And you see that the Girl Person stops and starts laughing instead of crying. And she looks even crazier. And you decide to change the channel. And she starts cackling even harder. And you just close your eyes.
You see, we’ve all got some crazy waiting to come out. What can push you over the edge and make you question every decision you’ve ever made? Maybe an ant. Or a million. Maybe the heat in Georgia. Maybe it’s a battle with poison ivy. But can you recognize the humor? Or do you let it keep you down?
Don’t get carried away with feeling sorry for yourself. There’s no way to make things better stuck in the same place. You can stop. Drop. And roll. But pull it together. And make what you need to happen…happen. It’s up to you. We are leaving Georgia today. Yeah. That’s happening. It’s been fun.
If the RV starts today after a battle with a 140 pound battery, we are on the road!
–Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle