Saturday In Wakonda

Saturday morning, I do breakfast. Deer sausage and eggs and juice. I cook on the coleman stove because all the firewood and charcoal is soaked. But that's ok--it's a decent breakfast and we decide a hike is in order before it gets too steamy. Then we'll head to the lake again. I want to canoe, but it looks like I'm the only one (which is different for Bridgett, frankly, because I don't like canoeing).

So we go on the Jasper Lake Trail.

It ain't a trail. It's a gravel road that leads to a dirt road (which of course is a sopping wet mud road that morning). Both sides are knee deep in poison ivy. There are mulberry trees, which is only interesting if you didn't grow up getting sick eating too many mulberries already. The kids like the mulberries, eating wild things right there in the wild. I mean in the "post-industrial almost repaired ex-gravel-quarry" that was standing in for the wild.

The trail is half shade, all mud, and a forced march around Jasper Lake. It doesn't really go anywhere. There's nothing to see. Halfway round, I announce I'm going back and anyone who wants to sit in my air conditioned car is welcome to join me. Sophia and two other kids do, and we drive around and relax for 15 minutes. Steven comes back, having gone to Quincy to buy a tail light.

Everyone else gets back from the trail and we head back to the campsite to pack up a lunch and go to the beach. I announce that Leo and I will be cruising. But that we will join them when we can. I drive Mike and the girls down to the lake and tell him to watch that Sophia. Poor sunburned Sophia.

I drive. I go back to La Grange, thinking about coffee at the gas station but deciding a cold drink might be smarter. I get to the Casey's General Store and find the electricity out. A transformer's blown somewhere. But the coolers are still cold and the register still works. On my way out the door I see a little taped sign that reads:

The city of La Grange is under a BOIL ORDER from 6 a.m. Saturday 6/20/09 to 6 p.m. Monday 6/22/09 due to loss of pressure in the system.

Huh, I think. I wonder if the campground is close enough to be on city water. I did notice that the water didn't taste like well water. Hmm. It's already close to noon on Saturday. Maybe I should go find out.

I drive back to the camp office. I explain to the nice woman behind the desk about the sign I saw at Casey's.

"Well, I live in La Grange, and I didn't even have water this morning," she thinks out loud. "I don't know. I guess I'll call the superintendent at the park. Because, yes, we are on city water."

We'd been drinking the water all morning, I thought. I thanked her and joined the neighbors at the beach for lunch.

Lunch was fine. Lots of people watching. Like...a pregnant girl in a bikini chain smoking. A shocking number of memorial "rest in peace" tattoos on men. More meth evidence (missing front teeth, really skinny people). And many many large people who should consider more supportive swimwear. I mean, I'm pretty chunky right now, as is my habit in that first 6 months or so post-partum. And I wear a pretty normal looking tank swimming suit. I don't hide under t-shirts and shorts and pretend nobody can tell. I get in the water at the pool and so forth. But I don't put on string bikinis. I could lose 80 pounds and I still wouldn't put on a string bikini. There were women there bigger than me--lots bigger, sometimes--and they were falling out of their swimsuits. Oy.

So that was fun. I reported about the water situation but said I'd follow up and find out what the deal was. They went back to the water and Leo and I went back to the office.

"Well, I just don't know," the woman told me. "The maintenance guy said he just wasn't sure what to do. But I wouldn't drink the water. I'm not going to drink the water."

Great.

I return to the beach. There's an ice cream vending machine and all the kids get dreamsicles and fudge bars and we sit and look at Trisha's phone at the radar. More storms are coming.

Storms.

No drinking water--hell, no brushing your teeth water.

We decide to call it a day. Throw in the towel. Pack up before the rain hits so we're not packing up Sunday in the wet.

We head back to camp.