As George Clinton once famously said: if you hear any noise, its just me and the boys.
And if you were anywhere near the northern end of Washington's Kitsap peninsula this past weekend, there's a very good chance you understood precisely what he meant.
Assuming, of course, he was referring to the sound of three wild and crazy guys traveling around, playing the banjo, knitting and generally carousing.
In several words, she is also loud, slow, lurchy and smells vaguely of mildew. Or rather she did smell vaguely of mildew. Now, she smells more like a grimy 7 year old boy.
For our first excursion, Lillian carried me and the two older boys to the banks of the Hood Canal on Friday evening, where we were treated to a spectacular view of the Perseid meteor shower.
On Saturday, she brought us to a local state park, where we camped within 100 unobstructed yards of the shores of the Puget Sound. That evening, we hosted another family at our campsite. They are friends who know very well the sounds described by Mr. Clinton - for they have three boys of their own. A campfire was built. Hotdogs, bratwurst and hamburgers were cooked. Marshmallows were toasted. And a great time was had by all.
After Mrs. TSMK left with the boys, I tidied up our campsite. Not wanting to wake the campers in the adjacent site, I took a few more minutes to knit, practice the banjo, and enjoy the scenery before firing up her mighty 1.8 liter air-cooled engine and heading for home.