CAULK THE WAGON AND FLOAT IT

          Let me start this post out with some nightmare fuel. When I was young my family got a Winnie the Pooh direct-to-video film called The Search for Christopher Robin. I recall there were a lot of moments that were vaguely unsettling, though that particular movie never bothered me. (The Shining, on the other hand...) Recently I stumbled across the VHS while looking for movies to bring back to Northeastern, and found this tape. "Whoa!" I thought. "Blast from the past!" So I looked up a couple songs from the film. I found myself wondering why I hadn't been terrified watching it at five or six years old. If I can get our older VHS machine to work, I'll definitely bring it back along with the other 20-odd movies I collected.
          Today was largely spent just relaxing and listening to music. Ian and I played some more Battlefront and I mercilessly wrecked him once again. Tomorrow we leave for Alfred, a small town in western New York where much of my father's side of the family lives. It's a five hour trip and the batteries on Lancelot last for about four, so I'm cooking up ideas for occupying that remaining hour. My current favorite is pretending I'm on the Oregon Trail. I could call out, "caulk the wagon and float it!" every time we cross running water, and pinch my brother repeatedly before informing him that he's died of dysentery. If I do survive this grueling trek, the odds are low that I'll find an internet-capable computer, so I might have to break my vow of "write every day even if nothing happens" for the next two or three. I can't wait until I'm at Northeastern with friends and interesting and funny things happen every other moment. For those of you reading, I admire your perseverance through these dark times in my blog. You deserve a cookie; ask and ye shall receive.
          In fact, I have an Oregon Trail story. A few months ago I played with Katharine, Alexa and Matt at Katharine's house. We really got into the spirit of the West by killing at least four 500-pound buffalo on every hunting expedition, despite only being able to carry 200 at a time. "Our people aren't dying fast enough," observed Matt, so we began to engineer their deaths by decreasing rations and increasing pace every time someone got sick. However, we took our rivers very, very seriously. "Shut up, we're caulking the wagon" was soon heard at every single river that had to be crossed. I mean, was it really even an option? So anyway, Alexa started to fuss about this. "Why do we have to do that every time? Just ford the river!" said she. Being a giving friend, I briefly considered it and then caulked and floated the wagon. For the first time in the game, it tipped in the water. "Ha! I told you!" said Alexa. Then we saw the damage: no supplies lost, one person drowned. That person's name? Alexa. And so it came to pass that Oregon Trail punished my friend for her foolish insolence.