The Camporee went really well, if a bit of an initial clusterfuck. I got woken up by Princess licking my face, and demanding walks. I got up, and a bit bleary-eyed, made coffee. Wasn't the same as New Orleans, but it would work for the moment, and I got washed up, changing into gear for the weekend, sneakers traded out for my hiking boots. Some messages from Dad, but nothing that required immediate attention. A ton of texts from Darryl about various stuff, and a message from Aimee to see if I could meet her before I left for the weekend. Easy enough to do.

I got Princess her walk, and stopped off at Plaid to get some stuff, as well as a beef stick for her highness. Wait... Reaver had turned into tools last night. I'd been in deep focus while I'd been working, but as far as I'd known, it only turned into weapons. It had turned into various objects, and I hadn't really paid attention to that at the moment. Reaver itself hadn't known it could either, but when you came down it, it made more sense it wasn't limited to weapons. Sure, weapons were useful, but a shield could protect life, and tools could build needed structures. Reaver had been constructed to save a failing empire, not necessarily to destroy its enemies. It had only taken the weapon forms based on its owners. With me, I didn't need or want weapons, so it altered itself to what it saw I did need.

It had interesting implications, but I didn't really have time to screw around with it and work out the limit. I had other issues: A couple of drivers were going to run late for the pick-up at the church, and we needed to come up with a solution. Remembering who had which vehicles, I re-sorted kids and adults, and got something at least duct-taped together. The sleeping bags had been checked by the boys to see if they were there, but not if they were fully functional, and several boys were missing basic stuff like mess kits. Mr. Bethel was picking me up in his van, so I let them know I could replace what was needed, and just get them into the trailer.

More hopeful, the tents and chuck boxes were ready to go, so that was taken care of. We would need to pick up extra propane for the camping stoves, but that was always going to be a part of the thing. I had Fred run me by Dick's at the Town Center since this was potentially going past where Fred Meyer was reliable. He'd been hard at work, bringing together lists of the various charity organizations around Portland, and an up-to-date list of shelters, which ones were day shelters versus overnight shelters, and marked which ones were attached to what charity or government group.

He'd also been talking with various homeless people. There was a distinct problem: A lot of the homeless refused assistance. I didn't get it, but Fred explained. Centrally, the homeless had gone through so many failed programs, and so many false hopes, that it was easier to just reject the help out of hand than it was to potentially lose what little they did have on someone's pipe dream, or get it yanked away to some asinine provision. That was gonna be a big obstacle, but there was little I could do about it in the current moment. The mall sale hadn't quite gone through yet, so I had no way to offer a more permanent solution.

Princess had a moment of barking at Samson, who took one look at the puppy in front of him, and barked back once, then pawed her over. Understanding of the power structure firmly secured, Princess took to following Samson around. We'd need to work on her dog etiquette when I got back.

I got everything, plus some extras, just assuming that some of the boys would have forgotten to mention something missing, and while I was at the mall, ducked into Barnes & Noble to grab some books on basic Sociology, as well as coffee and puppaccinos all around. I managed to get to the school just in time for it to let out and got a little precious time with Aimee.

It wasn't enough time, but I had a lot going on, so I arranged to come over for dinner on Sunday, took some kissing time, and headed off. I was just pulling back in with Fred when Mr. Bethel pulled up with the trailer. I put my backpack in the van, just in front of his ATV, and then got Fred to help me load up the trailer. I did a last run-through of the house, and checking over everything, we were ready to roll. Mr. Bethel's van had been rigged for hand controls, allowing him to run both gas and brakes on the steering wheel. He was super-excited for the hunting weekend coming up and went over stuff while we got over to the church for the final call.

A couple of boys ran late, and trying to keep everyone in line while we waited on a Friday was a full-time job. Finally, with everyone accounted for, we got going.... and then had to pull off, cause one of the drivers had forgotten to get gas. I was using a group of walkie-talkies to talk to a designated person in each car, so we could talk quicker and easier than having to call on the phones, and finally, we pulled into the campsite.

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Once everyone was parked, and the boys were rounded up, I opened up the trailer, and faced the group, "Alright, guys. We've got a lot to do to get camp ready before dark, but first, I brought some gifts with me."

I broke out the boxes and opened up the first one. Red wool BSA jackets, and began passing them out. We'd had everyone's shirt sizes at the beginning of the year, and then box two had base layers for everyone. Box three was loaded with BSA boonie hats. The guys went nuts, throwing on hats and jackets pretty much immediately. I was just happy everyone was on board with it.

From there, we took the trailer to our actual site and off-loaded everything we would need. I did have to take everyone through putting up the tent, and then, my own built, moved around the troop, making sure everyone had theirs together. It was, strictly speaking, more work getting the tents up than the old ones, but the other side of it was that they looked awesome. We grouped everyone by patrols to keep organization simpler, with our main campfire in the middle of the camp, and broke out chuck boxes while Russ went with the Tenderfoots to get kindling and show them what made for good kindling and firewood. Me and Russ got our own tent along the side of the campfire, and I got moving on dinner as soon as I could. Tonight's dinner was pretty simple, burgers and fries. Russ did his thing with putting together fruit punch, and hanging a lamp in the tent, then went to check on everyone else while I got some time to myself.

The next morning, we all swore out a bounty on our bugler, in jest... well half-joking, and the adults learned my most important new skill: I could make really good coffee. We broke up patrols and teams for different events, and Russ did notice I wasn't on any of the teams. He went to say something, and I just shook my head. I was having a good time anyway, and the important point was getting together with other Scouts, not feeding my ego. While everyone else was out doing their events, I worked on stuff for merit badges. I got signed off on a bunch of badges, not least of which was cooking and woodworking. One of our female leaders, Ms. Owens, shed a tear about her son Robby being so damn happy with his new gear. She talked about it with Mr. Bethel, they'd wanted to get him better stuff, but it was just too much.

I felt good and bad. Good that I could help, but bad that the help was needed, even so close to home. I got to feel better as the day went on. My troop was cleaning house at events, placed first multiple times, and at least top three for the rest. Chef's Smell was mostly an honorary, but I'd worked with the guys: Mojo Pork, maduros, and elotes, with a caramel flan for dessert.

Due to people abusing Chef's Smell, bringing in specific custom ingredients for just the competition, a hard rule had been passed that whatever was being entered into the competition had to be cooked for the entire troop, not just the competition. It kept some of the more asinine shit at bay, like making filet mignon and lobster tail. As long as we could produce it for everyone using what we had at camp, though, we were in the clear. I took Russ through the pork, which needed time to marinate, while I explained flan to the younger ones. Maduros were mostly a matter of the cook itself, rather than needing a ton of ingredients, and the only other remaining point was the rice that would be served with the pork.

It wasn't 'fancy', but it was great cuisine, and I took to directing everyone, making sure we were starting cook times to roll it out together, rather than cobbling together a piece at a time. The effect, however, was pronounced. I'd taken that talk about seasoning in New Orleans to heart. People could smell our campsite from a ways off, and it was kind of awesome in and of itself. They were getting it, with me just giving direction, and the occasional guiding hand from an adult. Everything put together, we assembled the dishes for the troop, using them as effective guinea pigs. That way, when we did our dish for the judges, we knew we had it. When the judges came by, the troop was fully ready, and Russ explained the mojo pork, Robby talked about the elotes, the maduros and Flan had the tenderfoots, and they launched into their spiel, though I did have to step in to get them to stop talking over each other. I said nothing in correction: This was their time, and I couldn't let my 1% overpower the effort they'd all put in. It paid off, and we took first place, it wasn't even close.

I had a great weekend and got in on Sunday just in time to head over to Aimee's. I snagged the extra ingredients we had left over from the cooking and remade the dish for her and her Dad. Her dad, when he'd originally heard I was going to cook something, was worried I would make some insane gourmet food, but he didn't strike me as the type to go for it, so I decided to stick with what I'd taught everyone else to do. It was a great weekend, and I only wish it could've lasted longer.

Monday, however, took a decided left turn. Miguel had arrived and was going nuts on my Bloomberg Terminal, so I let him take it to his office, and we got a call from Beth, who wanted to ask if it was alright if she brought some of her team with her. I didn't see any particular issue there, and if I could get a team that already knew how to work together well, all the better. And then there was the line: Dozens of people were waiting at the office, queued up in front of Susan's desk. She looked plenty frazzled as me and Dad came in the door, "Uh, Susan, real quick: Who are all these people?"

She took a moment staring at me, "Apparently, they're your employees!"