Setting my Hair on Fire....

No, I wasn't watching Top Gun again.

I was on one of my many camping adventures with the Boy Scouts. In particular, my oldest was a First Class Boy Scout and the youngest was in Cub Scouts and I was Den Mother. Words to strike terror in any woman's heart. (So, of course, I had to help organize and run a week-end camp-out with about 60 people of various ages and sizes and organize the cooking (to be done by the Boy Scouts. Oh, yes.)

Such things were never thought to be too difficult for a working single parent. We walk on water, don't we? Those requests from our kids are always heard. We are the ones who show up at school. Who shuttle them to games. Who give up trips to Paris if our kids can't come along. There are always those times when parents in two-parent households decline to volunteer because they don't have the time - if the married couple can't do it, give it to the single woman!

Well, it should not be too difficult, I thought. After all, my older son was now older, a Den Chief, and there would be other parents. And, I had done several of these multi-pack and troop adventures and lived through them.

So, what could possible go wrong?

Well, we arrived to find that there were (I swear) electrical outlets in the camp site! Well, it was a campground for humans - not specifically one for Boy Scouts. We don't usually treat them to civilized life on these outings.

No. No. No. We are hardy. We do it the hard way.

I had to explain this to the new scout parents who wanted to set up an expresso maker. Remember, I live in California.

This is allowed, I said, only if it works on a Coleman stove. (Lest you laugh, trot over to Tri-City or Big-5 or some other local camping equipment store and check it out. They do make them.)

Nighttime was fun - it went down to 28 degrees. New campers do not listen to equipment lists. We had several chilled people. Mostly parents. This does not make for a cheerful morning. The kids were fine.

Ever baked in a cardboard box?

Correction, ever cooked for 60 in a bunch of cardboard boxes?

When the father's are hungry? Note to other women, men on an outing must be fed regularly, kept warm and get lots of sleep, i.e., treated just like they are at home. Otherwise, they get cranky. I was faced with cranky men, and mothers who had never camped before and who wanted to be home in a warm bath. They weren't used to dust. They have never been to my house.

Baking in a box...... This requires a bit of thought. First, you line the boxes with aluminum foil. About 8 of them. The nice boxes you get from the copy room at work are best. (You can get such looks as you struggle out of the building with armloads of boxes.) You must line the boxes with heavy-duty foil. This is a task the Boy Scouts could do while you beat eggs mike and cheese together.

Next, you find a level spot of ground. It's what garden rakes are for. Make sure there is nothing you want growing under the box. It won't be there afterward. Men can handle rakes. It gives them something to do.

Then, you add a thick cardboard sheet to the ground and cover with a few sheets of aluminum foil. They tell me drip pans for car engines are good. Not the plastic ones. I didn't have time to go to Kragen's.

Add soda cans filled with water and place a cookie sheet on top of the soda cans (four of them). This holds the heat a bit even. I developed this technique baking cookies in my driveway for my den. It works. Of course, chocolate chip cookies can be eaten anyway you serve them, raw to real crisp. But these did come out well. There weren't any left by the end of the meeting.

Now you add coals, enough to reach 350 degrees F, spaced out under the cookie sheet. One coal equals about 17 degrees, unless you are at high altitudes or it's very cold. It is cold in the morning. And fathers who are not experienced campers must be fed early. As I said, hungry men have little patience. Remember, these were cub scout dads - they had not graduated to the Boy Scout "Over the Hill" patrol of hardened campers were they will be forced to do their own cooking and actually compete with each other in getting up early and burning the best breakfast. No, these were dads new to the experience.

Question is, how do you jump-start all those coals? Quickly?

Why, in a big barbecue unit on wheels, of course. And I just happened to have one. Imagine that. And, starting a coal fire is one thing my older boy is real good at. He's set fire to the backyard on more than one occasion. It's a good task for him.

And, if it ends up too close to that wooden picnic table? The one that is becoming dangerously warm? Smoking a bit?

Why, Mom can just jump in and put the top down and pull it away. Quickly.

You must remember to stand back, way back when you reopen the coals. Very carefully.

Air and hot coals are terribly explosive. I was leaning back. I had moved fast. I did have the vent open. I was alert.

Good thing!. I heard this crackling sound. I batted at my bangs. Den mothers have fast reflexes. My bangs were not there anymore. The fire had leapt six feet sideways in a flash before it settled back to an innocent looking fire. It had set my hair on fire!

My pyromaniac first-class Boy Scout just stood and watched. Fascinated. So did his equally-trained in first aid first class buddy. Some first-aid training.

My hair in front was grayish. Well, it was anyway. But now it was a lot thinner. But my eyebrows remained. (My mother had burned hers off.)

Mothers on outings do not allow themselves to be disturbed by such unplanned occurrences. After all, there were grumpy men to feed. I was glad to be single. We cooked. It took awhile. There was much pacing.

Breakfast, when it was ready, however, was just fine.

I never burn the rolls.