Why, thank you, our ever-revered Lord Baden-Powell. I loves me the Cub Scouting program. I love that my boys participate, I love that the church adopts it as its official activity arm for its boys, I love that I've been asked to serve in its ranks and provide just a smidge of its magic for these kiddos. But there's the practical, dirt-encrusted underbelly required with scouting that gets harder and harder for me the older I get. It's depressing.
Another session of Pioneer Trails Cub day camp at Polson's Ranch...I hate to say it, but I must: there are a great many things in life that I once found fun and entertaining, or, at the very least, not nearly so difficult or annoying as I see to find them these days: I'd like to blame it on the thyroid, so I will. But normally, I enjoy, in a large way, the day camp experience. This year, not so much. But not because of the company: I mean, look at those fellas! And they were amazingly easy: if you're going to herd cats for 7 hours, these are the cats you'd choose, hands down.
Another session of Pioneer Trails Cub day camp at Polson's Ranch...I hate to say it, but I must: there are a great many things in life that I once found fun and entertaining, or, at the very least, not nearly so difficult or annoying as I see to find them these days: I'd like to blame it on the thyroid, so I will. But normally, I enjoy, in a large way, the day camp experience. This year, not so much. But not because of the company: I mean, look at those fellas! And they were amazingly easy: if you're going to herd cats for 7 hours, these are the cats you'd choose, hands down.
The camp organizers like to stick with the program, with the usual result: the stations that aren't as much fun as others are consistently not as much fun as others. Such as Scouting Skills. Here, they made rope from twine. Which was a Disneyland ride compared to what they endured in Nature.
Archery always rocks, though.
And BB guns. The genius this year was having a first-come, first-serve sling-shot station, as well as a Sasparilla Saloon (root beer for 5 cents a cup) to while away your waiting time for either arrows or guns, and that, my friends, was a bit of a god-send on the 103-degree day I attended.
As was the water.
Ty attended 11-year-old Scout Camp with the saintly Brother Pierce and assorted other petty criminals from the Sons of Helaman Patrol, as can be readily discerned in this photo.
The camp was held on the Bastian family's property just south of us...it's quite the spread, given the fact tht they have their own stream and lake. I mean, right? Owing your own tributary? That's impressive.
Can you conceive of owning this kind of space, wherein you could host a few stakes' worth of 11-year-old scout troops and not even notice that they're there? Love the Bastians, just love 'em.
Ty and Landon. Being handsome, killing time.
Breakfasting. I'll probably be amending this blog entry, once Matt gets home (he actually attended and has some idea as to activities enjoyed and funny stories with which to caption.)
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