Friday At The Kampground

Fridays are always busy for campground owners. End of the week and every body wants to get away for the weekend. Dogs woke me early, at 5:30. Too early, so I went back to sleep and slept longer than I wanted to. So I was dragging with that "too much sleep hangover". I grabbed the coffee and was putting my day together in my head. I had some garden work I had wanted to get done early, then shower and go to the grocery. The ice truck arrived as I was heading out the door with a huge bag of potting soil draped on my shoulder. He who is most always absent from the store operations took over for me and I loaded my soil and a plant in my trusty wheel barrow. The golf cart remains stationary as it has been waiting for some mystery "part" for the last month. I came back to make sure that I had actually been excused from desk duty. I stopped and pulled a couple weeds along the way and upon reaching my big yellow wheel barrow found the petunias to be missing. I remember putting them in, but, I still go back and check. They are gone and by then the phone is ringing and he who took pity on me is acting like a little boy about to wet his pants. He leaves and I am stuck in the land of eternal camp desk hell.

Unlike he who I am married to, I can do more than one thing at a time ......... so I took the phone and went to address the restrooms. I only have two tenters and they are men, so I am assuming the ladies side should be pretty much the way I left it yesterday afternoon. It is not. The toilet is running and has been giving me a fit all week. I can fix it temporarily, but I have asked he who plumbs to change out the guts in the tank twice and it has not been done. Sensing my mood he is treading lightly and starts helping me clean. This is only making me more irritated. Finally he notes that I have not been out of here in "awhile". It has been weeks and I need a change of attitude, as well as scenery.

I went into "town" and spent a lovely hour in the grocery. Paula Deen has a Tex-Mex casserole recipe I wanted to try and I indulged in a coconut cream pie from Mrs. Smith. She makes a fine pie with a flaky crust and I salivated all the way home. Swimmers were arriving as I unloaded my bags of frozen veggies and I ended up just dumping the whole bag in the freezer. I will put them up correctly later. I managed to build the casserole, cook the pie and put all the other groceries away while checking in weekend campers and shaving ice for snow cones for swimmers. As it approaches 5:00 I find myself with minutes of inactivity. Dinner is all ready to pop into the oven and I am taking a short rest.

I should be booked, but find that I am not. The big holiday weekend has too many open slots, so I am happy when people without reservations arrive and want to stay two nights. I hear the door and a couple with a young girl, maybe 9 years old or so, come in. I can't tell if she is the daughter or granddaughter of the couple. All three look pretty unkempt. The man tells me that they need to stay for a few nights because his transmission has gone out. I looked out and the fifth wheel looks decent, the truck looks okay. But between the two of them they probably don't have three good teeth. Both are smiling and talking as the odor of decayed teeth hangs in the air. As a business owner I am always cognizant of appearances. I don't want to have something parked here that makes it look like a homeless camp. I can't afford to discourage guests from wanting to stay. On the other hand, I feel bad for those caught in the tsunami of economic misfortune.........

The child in this instance is very bright and inquisitive. She seems to be well-fed and is clothed in clean clothes. They are staying, they seem to have money to get to where they are going (Ohio). They don't have an address, since they are moving. I hope that they have a job waiting for them that has dental coverage. But, who am I to judge? I don't have health insurance, much less dental coverage.

The pie with its' enticing aroma beckons to me as it sits cooling on the counter. So I have a piece. I did, after all buy it for me. One of the joys of being of a certain age, I suppose, is eating what I want when I want it from time to time. He who eats a Hershey bar every night will not begrudge me a piece of pie ............ By the way, "he who" is my husband and his name is Drew. The regular kampers have taken to calling him "he who", too.