"Jeremy's turning 37. That's prime. And, I'm prime, too."
"Really? Does that happen often? Will you ever both be prime at the same time again?"
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| Sunset on the Po |
"Well, there are an infinite number of twin primes, or prime numbers that are two apart. But we're eight years apart; I don't know how many primes are eight apart."
"Let's see. The primes are 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 37. So, Beth is the 11th prime and Jeremy is the 13th."
"OH MY GOD 11 and 13 are twin primes!"
Miles from civilization on a finger-shaped landmass created by a sharp bend in the Potomac River, our group, affectionately dubbed the MooShoo Canoe Crew (hereafter, the Crew), chatted over a crackling fire. The conversations weren't always as riveting as the one above, but this one took place early on Friday evening; we were just getting warmed up.
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| A Happy Moment |
The Crew graciously agreed to spend both nights of their canoe camping trip at the midpoint of their river route, which added a layer of logistics but in the end was a good thing for everybody. Also because of this, Molly and I were able to camp for two nights with the Crew, and our first attempt of 2011 at camping with Indie (2.5 years old) and Otis (turned 1 last Wednesday) was a successful one. Looking back on it, we agree that the highs outnumbered the lows, and so it averaged out to a good trip.
I never could have imagined the amount of stuff that a couple of minimalists would pack to drive 3 hours from home to stay two nights in a tent. We were in charge of exactly one-half of one meal for the group of 12 adults, 2 kids, and 2 dogs, so we didn't have to pack a lot of food. Still, we somehow looked like the caterers and outfitters all in one vehicle. Two pak n play portable cribs, sleeping mats, a handful of blankets, a tent large enough to hold those pak n plays and Molly and me, a cooler, bikes, a kid trailer, a portable DVD player, a stroller, a baby chair, a weekend's worth of clothes and diaper changing gear, snacks and dry food, camp chairs, and a 7 gallon jug of Wilkinsburg-Penn Joint's finest somehow fit inside, on top, and behind the car (on my redneck trailer-hitch cargo rack, uh-huh). The Griswald's would have been proud. I even was able to see out the back window, though most of the time I had the rear view mirror tilted to I could see the kids in the back seat.
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| One-handed campsite cooking |
Camping with kids is hard and arguably not worth it. To pull it off, we had to have lots of options for activities. At any given time we needed to be able to choose from one of several viable, simple options. We went on a bike ride (1/2 hour of it spent crying) and swam in the Potomac at the boat ramp (no crying). We jogged on a nearby trail (separately, alone). We looked for turtles. We collected sticks. We collected rocks. We cooked and we ate.We followed an owl. We changed a ton of diapers. We spent every moment in a state of prevention. We prevented falls, drowning, sunburn, exposure, and choking. Then, we prevented kids from getting hit by a truck, eye pokes, and dehydration. We prevented milk from spoiling and tried to prevent the kids from being spoiled.
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| The MooShoo Men |
At the end of the day, our friends arrived after spending six hours slowly floating down the Potomac. They complained that they were exhausted. We laughed with jealousy. Then, our exhausted friends volunteered to hang out with our kids while Molly and I swam at dusk. The sky mellowed to a pale pink, the still water reflected it and the forest around it, and Molly uttered more than one time, "This is Heaven."
The next morning, in a valiant attempt to keep our average in the positive zone, we ate, packed and hit the road.
Git r dun
* Note: For one thing, 31 was neglected in our list of primes. But also, I found out later that Beth is 29, not 31. Either way, the conversation doesn't change much (does it?)
