Camp Week

Kelly is now safely ensconced at Camp Collins. We dropped her off this afternoon. Jean is uneasy, and sleeping with the phone next to the bed tonight. I'm of course the reckless male, comfortable that the odds are on my side. I'm not oblivious, mind you. I just know that Camp Collins has a good record for child safety, and there are a lot of kids there, many of whom are more risk-taking than Kelly. So when the phone rings, it most likely will not be for us.

In the meantime, it's my job to keep Jean occupied so that her motherly concerns don't gnaw at her too much. Of course, that's hard when I'm at work all day. But we are taking a day off this week to go to the Portland Art Museum and the Lavender Tea House. I'm hoping to convince her to make the trek one evening to Cinetopia, but as it's all the way up in Vancouver, Washington, I don't hold out much hope. Then there's the Jazz Bar at the Sweet Brier Inn, where my Dad and Bette were staying last week. Care to dance, Jean?