The Bad Moms' Club: Into the Woods

Some of you may remember the impetus for the Bad Moms' Club back in January. Since then, the Bad Moms have had more than a couple few highly rejuvenating GNO's, but this past weekend was the first full-on retreat since our island getaway. And we almost doubled our numbers.

This time we took it to the woods.

As my fellow BMs (I can call them that, 'cause they're the shit) were keenly aware of the fact that they'd end up in my blog on Monday, they thought they'd help me come up with something to say (that wouldn't be TOO incriminating...)

They - we - decided that it might be fun to write a compare and contrast essay addressing the differences between camping with men/kids/dogs and camping with women.

(No, Tom, those differences didn't include pillow fights. Sorry to disappoint.)

We came up with a nice little list, but as I was looking it over and trying to think of a way to cleverly present it I realized that many of the differences sprung, not from the presence or absence of men/kids/dogs, but from the efforts of my sister. If the rest of us played a role, it was that we genuinely appreciated her efforts whereas men/kids/dogs might have at best taken them for granted and at worst trodden all over them.

An absolutely non-inclusive list of examples:

- Most of us were arriving Friday, but my sister went to the campground Thursday to 'set things up' so that when we arrived, our only concern would be who would pour the first round.

- As part of the set-up process she hand painted a 'club' sign and set up a little 'bad moms' shrine, which she added to all weekend.

As it looked when we arrived...

...and after, with all of the souvenirs of the weekend. Hmm. Now in the pic that looks suspiciously like a condom in the forefront, but the truth is something that would distress her husband even more: she melted a plastic bottle over the fire. Horrors! When her hubs is present, it is verboten to put ANYTHING in the fire pit that is not wood. We were feeling - defiant. And bad. 'Cause that's how we roll.

Here's proof of the deed. What's that she's roasting her plastic bottle over? Burning empty Coke Zero cases? BLASPHEMY!!! No one tell her hubs, ok?

- There were flowers on the table and copper lanterns were strung to light our way.


- She took sole responsibility for the poop tote. (If you don't want to know, don't ask.)

- Everything (and I mean down to the last detail) was organized and/or anticipated. Those of you who know my sister IRL know that this is not an exaggeration.

We all brought food/supplies (read: Patron) for a menu we'd agreed upon at a quick little Wednesday night GNO meeting of the planning committee (where there just happened to be $2 margaritas. Who knew?)

Now the menu. THAT'S something that varied pretty dramatically from MKD camping. (Men/kids/dogs - stay with me on the TLA's {Three Letter Acronyms}). There wasn't a hamburger or a hotdog in sight (and anyone who wants to make jokes about missing hotdogs on a girls only weekend, well, rest assured - we made 'em all...) We had ribs Friday night - pre-baked at home, then browned and barbecued over the campfire with baked beans and a Ceasar salad. Saturday we grilled teriyaki salmon with green beans almondine and asparagus - all over the campfire. Sublime.

We - more accurately, my sister - grilled a wheel of Brie as an appetizer Saturday night. I've never posted a recipe before, but ya'll. Seriously. You've got to try this next time you're cookin' over a fire.

Wendy's Campfire Brie

Place a wheel of Brie in a fire safe pan. Surround it with roasted red peppers (cut coarsely), minced garlic, finely chopped jalapeno peppers, and a liberal amount of butter. Cover the pan with aluminum foil and place it on a rack over an open fire. Check for doneness by poking the top of the Brie - when it feels soft and melted, remove the pan from the fire. Serve on toasted french bread slices. (We toasted the bread over the fire, too)

Too. Darn. Yummy.

We ate well, we drank well, we laughed well, we communed with Mother Nature. She can be a bad mom, too, ya know? We left feeling - um - quite well indeed.

Refreshed.

Rejuvinated.

Ready to go forth and be good moms again.

C'mon. Let yourself be a Bad Mom. Join the club. You know you wanna...