I have Gary home for ten whole days for vacation. We'd planned to take the two younger boys camping, but between the predicted rain, both here and in Southeast Missouri, and hours being cut at work (what a lousy time for the factory to burn through their inventory so their books balance), it looks like we'll be staying much closer to home.
Frankly, I think I'm far more disappointed than everyone else is. I really look forward to these trips with just us, away from television, computers, and ringing phones. And I love taking the boys hiking and doing the tourist thing. However, I suspect Gary might even be a little relieved. This means he doesn't have to attempt to build any camp fires (Which I'm rather good at and he's not. But, since he's the guy, I'm supposed to stand and watch appreciatively and try really hard not to make helpful suggestions while he throws one match after another into piles of logs, then gives up, blaming damp wood. His solution is not to take my-finally given because I can't just stand there--advice. Instead he soaks everything in lighter fluid and pronounces himself a great woodsman as six foot flames shoot into the sky while he jumps backwards in order to avoid being singed). Sam's eleventh birthday is Thursday so he's good with whatever happens as long he has a birthday party and Joseph is happy just have the week off from school.
So I suppose we'll just putter around here, go for hikes in our own local national forest, and cook out on the deck (lots less drama). And maybe I'll squeeze a couple of household honey-dos out of him while we're at it. I've got this plan for a greenhouse . . .