Nostalgic for War Already

Every year, as Pennsic looms closer, my nerves get the best of me. I get this apprehensive flutter starting in my guts around June, and it doesn't really quit until about halfway through War week. This apprehension is so bad that usually, the week before Pennsic, I am seriously convinced that I don't even want to go.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the chaos factor of Pennsic. You know that something is going to happen, but you don't know what, when, who will be involved, or whether it's going to be totally awesome or totally apocalyptic. I mean, I met Carl at Pennsic 31, and we are (thankfully) still feeling the shock waves of that cataclysm. :-) The control freak in me quakes before the inevitable mayhem machine that is my two weeks at Pennsic.

I forget until I actually set foot on site how priceless that mayhem actually is, and how much I value all of those moments that don't seem to take place anywhere else.

Like listening to the rain on the tent while curled up under the covers with Carl and Wendy, or visiting with Mollie late at night like little girls at a sleepover (who talk about explicit sex acts), or meeting Luna Lovegood on speed, or doing drunken diaper delivery with Wrenne, Frannie and Bree, or waking up and having cups of tea under the canopy of trees with whoever is conscious...



It's why so many people go back again and again, I suppose. Because we miss those people and that feeling that we belong somewhere special. Even if that place only exists once a year.

Of course, if I could just move all of my friends into my town, it would save me the anxiety attack every summer...and the two-day packing extravaganza...and we would get to smell each other under normal, non-camping circumstances, which would be novel*. I'll be sure to put that at the top of the list when I send out the brochure.

*except for the smelling of Wrenne. she always smells luscious. always.

"At last! My manhood has been avenged and redeemed! By my fourteen year old daughter!!!"

~Carl, after he was foiled by the ever-popular hammer-and-bell attraction on the boardwalk six times, and Erin sauntered up and cracked the midsized one twice in a row. She won a nubbly beach ball. We were very proud. (and avenged.)

Pennsic 08 pics.
(or, Wendy goes to War, and wins.)

I will also throw some shore pics up soon. Cause, you know. Baby on a beach. Always good to see.

This Week

This week was a long week.

We had Monday to regroup from Pennsic and pack stuff up. This is still going on, but the bulk of it took place on Monday. Tuesday, we decided to join my sister, nephew, Mom, and Carmine down the shore, so after securing Carl's Mom for dog-sitting, we packed up and drove to Wildwood.

It was nice. I think we all were due a beach fix, which we got within a half-hour of arriving at the tiny little house where they were all staying. Wendy put her feet in the ocean for the first time, and promptly decided that she is owning at least six beach-front properties by the time she is ten. I am voting for at least one New Zealand bungalow.

We did some other stuff while we were down there. We rode roller coasters and pink elephants and Jaimie bought me ice cream and Carl caught the biggest fish. We had a great time, though I am having a hard time writing about any of that. I guess the reason that I want to write about the beach at all is because I don't really know how to write about the other events of this week.

Wednesday we went to the beach again, and I spent a significant stretch of time reclined in a chair, holding my sleeping baby and looking out at the water. Holding my baby and thinking about Avery, Chris' daughter, who was four when she died last Friday. Holding my baby and thinking about the abundance of life in the biological soup of ocean at my feet and the breath of my own child against my skin, and about how quickly our life and breath can go from us. Thinking about how I would be happy to stay there with my baby and watch her splash and laugh and play, for all of eternity.

The ocean is seriously restorative, even if it is only for two days, even if it is Jersey. I highly recommend it.

Pennsic 08

Damn. There are so many things that made this Pennsic a different kind of Pennsic for us. This year, we were both miraculously freed up from our usual responsibilities. That, combined with an amazing new camping location and the company of a few great friends, and POOF! Pennsic was actually a vacation.

There are too many good pictures. Most of them will end up on Flickr, as soon as I can get a minute to upload them. Until then, here are a few of my favorites that only barely touch on how gorgeous was our site:

Morning View

The Bridge over Shower Waters

And a few taken on the slope that leads down into the little Fern Gully where we lived for two weeks:


Ahh...this was one to remember.