Curious Chicklet Campfire, Tuesday Evening

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To say that Katchoo was less than thrilled about this whole cabin experience was like saying that Georgia O'Keefe had had a vague, passing interest in flower metaphors. (Katchoo could have told her a thing or two about dirty flower artwork, but anyway.)

Hoping nobody would bug her if she was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, she was set up beside the campfire with a pack of her usual cheap cigarettes and a sketchbook, staring absently at the blank page in front of her. Communal living was hell on her creativity.

[OOC: You know the drill -- open!]

Tiniest Penguin Campfire [evening]

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Kaylee was back to her old fight: roasting things over a fire.

She was rapidly learning that s'mores were doomed to be messy -- not that she minded, but it was something to remember.

Today, though she was trying something new, and had an assortment of fresh fruit along with the marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers. She was curious as to whether pears or apples would toast well.

Strawberries, it turned out, did not.

[open campfire is open. keep me company while I flail about packing!]