Sometimes my new writing prompt book irritates me because of its sophomoric prompt ideas; other times it makes me laugh; and every so often I find something to write about, aside from making fun of the book. The book and I have a complicated relationship that I do not understand. Regardless, I receive delightful, quirky mental stimulation after spending only a few bucks. Not exactly what I was expecting, but I will take the W! Shall I continue?

#998: You are the creator of a new religion that combines all of your philosophies and beliefs. What is it called, how does it work, and who follows you into it? 

Are you kidding?! I cannot get people to listen to me as a minister in my current religion. Why start another one and have double the pain : )

#971: Write a comedy sketch or entire screenplay based on stoner comedies like Cheech and Chong or Harold and Kumar. 

Who are Harold and Kumar? Anyway, Toto and I no longer live in Colorado.

#262: Talk about accomplishing something that you always wanted to do in and around your home. 

Does cleaning the kitchen every now and then count?

#228 Who is the strangest historical figure you can think of? Write a day in his life.

Can I get out of this one if my strangest historical figure is a her?

#221: from JJ – please keep in mind I did not make this up. Seriously, this is a writing prompt: Pretend that you are a sadistic history teacher who decides to make up the history of an imaginary nation for his children and test them on it. What is the nation and what is their history?

Real history is scary enough @#$!^%$%^%&$^&*&^&#%%. So is this prompt. Where do you get this stuff dude? Where do you live? Colorado?

#297: It is the middle of the night and you are a counselor for a camp of about 30 kids. The kids’ tent collapses in the middle of the night. What happens and how do you deal with it?

Now we are talking! This happened to me, not with a bunch of kids but with my son. Kerry was around 10 or 11 then. During spring break, we took a road trip into the Baja section of Mexico. We loved Mexico back then and travel there was safer than today. We loved camping on a beach and high-tailed it down to the San Felipe area on the Sea of Cortez for our break. At that time, you could bounce down any number of sandy roads and drive onto the beach. The adjacent landowner, whose land we passed through on the way to the beach, charged a nominal fee. This road ended in a sandy bowl, and my station wagon mired into the sand. Not a problem for that day: we grabbed the tent, Coleman stove, cooler, and the assorted other stuff of camping and hopped over the dune, where the ocean–about 30 yards further out–greeted us. Joy! A beach, waves, sun, and no one else around. We set up the tent on the tippy top of the dune, although we rarely slept there. We preferred to sleep under the stars, which we did that first night.

We fell into our usual routine: eat, explore the beach, read, then head into San Felipe for lunch and shopping during the warmer hours of the afternoon. That day, we had to dig out the car. Once in town,  Kerry convinced me to buy fireworks– a few firecrackers and sparklers, but also bottle rockets. I was a bit fearful about setting off bottle rockets, but he assured me I could do it. Go mom, you can do it. C’mon Mom, it will be fun. That night, shooting bottle rockets over the ocean was fun. I was nervous and trembling when I lit the first one. I turned to run back towards the tent after lighting the fuse and bogged down in the sand, not far from but on the other side of the bottle rocket. Boom, swhosh, off it went over the waves. We laughed at me, hunkered down in fear, arms over my head. More, more, more. We had the best time ever.

Bedtime. The dark sky full of stars turned pale as cloud cover moved in.Thinking that we might receive some night rain, I suggested that we sleep in the tent. I do not remember stories we told each other or any further laughter about the fireworks extravaganza, I do remember  waking up to a wild wind howling around us. Kerry and I both sat upright, eyes as big as saucers. Wooshing, howling, like the storm that whipped up around Jesus while His disciples slept in the boat. Were the fireworks gods angry at us? What the heck! Within seconds, the tent collapsed around us. We sat there in the collapsed tent, unsure about our next move. Neither of us wanted to go outside, but I worry if we are safe on top of the dune? Lightning anywhere nearby? The mom instinct kicked in, and I crawled from under the heap of flapping fabric that was our tent. From the shadows the landowner approached, scaring me to death. Are you all right? Everything okay? he asked in perfect English. Did you see lightning? I asked him. No. Then the storm subsided and the skies cleared. Stars shone throughout the universe and our corner of the world was peaceful once again. We flailed around in the deflated tent and pulled out our sleeping bags, setting up once again on the beach.

Another day arrives and we eat, explore the beach, head into town when the air gets hot. We buy more firecrackers every afternoon and laugh heartily as we set them off at night. A favorite memory of confronting fear and subsequent laughter.

San Felipe

In case you are wondering, I am thinking that if laundry and guests start to smell after three days, wrestling with writing prompts also begins to stink in the same time frame. Therefore, I shall stop this craziness. Be forewarned: I may return when I need some amusement.

Speaking of kids and camp, I am heading off for a three-day youth rally with our ND kids. Catch you on the rebound.