Monday, August 29, 2011


Jeepers. it's been a while. Summer time is blasting by. Emma is starting kindergarden tomorrow. The garden is overgrown. We might just get one more camping trip in before it is all over for another year. I wonder if it will go as well as our last trip. If I was a Victorian matron I would word the events in a letter that would go like this:

My Dearest Mrs. Confuffle,

It joys me to inform you of our recent trip to the White Mountains of New Hampshire, Where My loyal husband and I decided to take the children for a convivial turn on the Saco river. The weather was pleasant and we had plenty of suptuals and drink to hold us off against even the most remotest hungars and thirst. Our 5 year old daughter and 3 year old son had just completed swim lessons and busied themselves in the shallows, swimming about like little smelts! After a spell we took to deeper waters teaching the children the wonders of  being in a canoe. We spied before us a rather perfect log. Placed in the water just so, it was a prime jumping in spot and we promptly paddled to it. I remained stalwart in the stern, keeping the canoe against the current, pressed to the log where the children and husband could jump in. Oh what fun! Little Zachary leaping off the log, little Emma-Lynn having none of it and Father jumping in most of all.
Father decided to climb back in the canoe after a turn, and Mrs. Confuffle, bless my soul, didn't he then simply swamp the boat with his efforts! Indeed suddenly, everything was underwater! our food basket and paddles and bags and snorkels all lifted themselves up and gently began floating away. I found myself still sitting in the canoe with water up to my neck,  Emma-Lynn, in her most convincing banshee shriek took it upon herself to inform us of every passing event, punctuated by "HELP! HELP!": The paddles are floating away! Help! Help! The food is floating away! Help Help! My brother is floating away! Help! Help! etc.  Zachary thought the whole affair was put on for his amusement and floated away clapping and giggling. The dog tried to get on my head until I convinced him that was a poor idea by shotputting him away. I swam around and collected our son and sundries and my Handsome and Charming husband swam the canoe to shore and emptied it of water, then paddled out and collected us up. Only one shoe and a pair of swim goggles lost!
But I must tell you of the next day's hike, where the children walked a good few miles on their own to and around a beautiful spot called Dianna's Baths. On the way there Zachary was terribly occupied with finding trolls under all the little bridges we passed and, finding none, he was convinced they were probably all taking baths with Dianna. Once arrived at the fabled spot, all beautiful pools of water and natural steps of rock interspaced with waterfalls 5-15 feet in height, our son decided to attempt to leap off every one. Eagerly searching out his doom. To avoid heart palpitations and nervous anxiety, I decided, after an hour of grasping Zachary back from precipice upon precipice, that perhaps I would be better off having his father watch over him and I retired to the sensible company of our daughter and played princess and the frog. There was a concerned mother or two who questioned me about the boy and possibly my ability as a parent, to which I replied: "Oh this? This is nothing. Now, please excuse me." (Before I engage with you in an action that I might regret, as it would likely bring me to the gaol.) I honestly do not understand the pickled gumption of some matrons! Really! concern yourself with your own unruly brood, dear woman!
But I digress. Mrs. Confuffle, and it is a delight to see the children hiking so capably this early on.  The hike back was delightful until we ran out of m&m's (Our bribe of choice for this venture). Also the dog found  chipmunks to obsess over, which was a tad irritating as he managed to escape three times before we drove off. Actually, his third attempt was the most successful, as no one saw him leave, and thusly, we left him behind. Thinking he was asleep in the back, we didn't notice until we were almost home. Fortunately, he was promptly picked up and put into the shelter for the night and it resulted in my returning to the mountains the next day to pick him up. Thank heavens for modern services.
So my dear, I do hope you consider coming along with us on our next venture. We are nothing if not magnetized to adventure and bumbletude.
      With my fondness,
Mrs. K. M. Lincoln


  1. Karen, what an adventure!

    Do you think it possible to address all further blog postings to Mrs. Confuffle? I think your onto something with this whole Victorian matron thing...

    Enjoy what's left of your summer!

  2. Indeed, I think Mrs. Confuffle should be a recurring character in your family's amazing adventures. You're such a hoot:)