Clear Creek Fest in Berea, KY

Well, that was quite the weekend.  One we won't forget for a long time.  Funny as it sounds, since I spend just about as much time I humanly possible with my children, I really feel like we bonded this past weekend.  Allow me please to take you through a pictorial of our time in Kentucky:

I guess - to get the business end of things out of the way - I should say that the ride down was practically effortless.  The children were nearly perfect in the car.  It rained a bit in Illinois, particularly during the busiest traffic in Chicago, but that made it all the more interesting.  Thanks the to technology of cell phones, we found our Baltimore travelers with little fuss in downtown Indianapolis.  We found "the land", just south of Berea, KY, with only a bit of trouble.  We figured out where to set up camp and connected with Julie and her girlfriend Melanie and their doggie Scout on Thursday night.  After a brief moment or two of panic, because of the foreignness of it all (Appalacian country people kind of freaked me out, sorry to say), I found myself so happy to be there with my boys and other beloved family members on Thursday night.

On Friday night, we headed into Lexington to connect up with old childhood friends of Mark and me.  All growing up, it was "Teeka and Mark and Billy and Shelley."  We did everything with these kids.  We rode bikes and went on family vacations and pranked called people and went swimming and even, yes, started a gang, called the WHIPS (based off of the CHIPS tv show, but instead our name stood for We Help International People) (how awesome is that?).  Anyway, Billy and Shelley moved to Kentucky in 1982, and we have barely seen each other since.   In fact, I am fairly sure it had been 20 years since the four of us were together.  Anyway, through the powers of facebook, I arranged for us to meet at their mom's house.  We had a night where, at least the four of us, totally enjoyed reminiscing about our past.  Here we are, flashing our gang symbol (which we didn't have in the early 80's because they weren't invented yet):

OK, back to the festival.  So, there were three locations for tents.  The "quiet" area, the "celebration campground", and "camp zevon".  We opted for the celebration campground, kind of by default, and it probably was the best fit for us.  It was probably about a half-mile walk in from the cars, but a lovely hike at that.  As you can see, it was lush and green and beautiful.  Here are Mark and One, hanging out at the tents:

There were, gee, at least 40 tents in the celebration area.  I bet there were 20 or so in the quiet and vendor areas, and who knows how many at camp zevon.  I never ventured up there, but who knows.  The way they partied and howled throughout the night, they probably didn't even have tents.  Anyway, at the celebration campground, there was a workshop held regarding how to make a rocket stove.  I attended it, simply because I was sitting at the campfire already.  The man on his knees in the blue shirt led the workshop.  He was very knowledgeable and kind, and he lived in a teepee.  One whispered to me, "mom, he lives in a teepee."  "yes, I heard that," I responded.  We both chuckled.  As you can see in the picture, long beards were the style:

As was pink tinted hair.  I don't know how many people had pink-tinted hair, but it was not uncommon:

So, since we were camping, we enjoyed many campfires.  This one was at the festival grounds.  Two had a lot of fun tending to it, until he was informed by someone that the smoke was wafting towards the stage, irritating the performers:

We sat there for, oh, I don't know, a couple of hours maybe, listening to the music.  Not my first choice in music, but not that bad (country/bluegrass).  We snacked on Oreos.   Here is evidence that even Mark and Aisha ate this highly processed and non-dairy food:

Back at celebration campground, some kind man gave my children a lesson with an axe.  I suppose I should have supervised this, or at least been aware enough to permit it, but I kind of let my guard down with the hippie vibe that was going on there.  I didn't find out about it until after the fact.  Oh well, live and let live, man...

To that end, this was a neighboring tent, where my children regularly visited...

to get candy... 

Back to my children being in my presence and under my supervision, I observed some very sweet brother interactions all weekend long:

On Saturday night, after all of that axe wielding and candy eating and rocket stove making, we walked back to the festival grounds to eat (rice and beans for those healthy Baltimorians,  hot dogs and hamburgers for us) and listen to music.  An unexpected highlight was playing with the hula hoops that were laying around.  Aisha was the best at the hula hoops, though all the kids did well.  Actually, Mark did great too.  Basically, it was just me who had trouble.  Mark took a video of me to show me how I looked.  Spastic would be the best adjective to use.  Remember that Seinfeld where Elaine danced funny?  That was me, with a hula hoop.  Anyway, here are the more graceful hoopers:

And then it was Sunday morning, and time to go.  We were all a bit tired:

and didn't want to leave the warm campfire:

but we posed for one final picture:

One, Me, Two, Scout the doggie, Angry Three, Aisha, Mark (front row)
Melanie, Julie (back row)

In this recap, I am leaving out the part about vomit and other bodily fluids (you are welcome).  I also only glossed over the goings-ons at Camp Zevon, but I'm telling you, it was all howling and drumming and more howling All.Night.Long.  It was a bit much.  In fact, I wanted to get out of my tent at about 4 am and shout, "Shut the f*** up, you hippies!" but I refrained.  I also didn't talk about the live art installation about New Orleans (some guy writhing around on the ground, moaning for his father, and he may have been a wolf too).  Didn't talk about the pit toilets (quite nice!) or the spring water (refreshing!).  Didn't mention the smack down that almost occurred between me and some woman over water usage.  Didn't mention the fire dancers or the beef-a-roni or all the sweet doggies who roamed freely.  I am so glad we went, and I am so glad we are home.