Camping

We went camping this weekend. Just Jeff and I, the dogs and our little camper I like to call "the doll house" because it's like playing house every time we set it up. As we were sitting by the campfire (I'd say "around" the campfire but when there's only two of you, it's not really a "round" kinda thing, unless, of course, you're talking about my shape, and then that's a whole 'nother story), I started thinking of WHY we think camping is so great. Is it "getting away from it all"? Not likely since the highway ran past just a few hundred yards from our campsite and we could hear traffic noise all night. That and the buffoons a few sites over who liked playing loud music and shouting well past "quiet time". Is it "getting back to nature"? Nope, not that either, since I was able to run to Wal Mart mid-trip and get my clamming license and other essentials (propane, strawberry shortcake fixin's). No, I'm pretty sure camping is just sleeping in another place with a whole lot more work and dirt involved. Oh, and trees overhead. Definitely the trees. Which make it dark. All the time. The whole weekend. We have a nice little pop-up camper that sleeps several and it's just perfect for our family. With just us and the dogs I thought we'd have it made - I set up the other bed just for them. But did they sleep there? They did not. One dog staked her claim under the table and the other two were in our bed before you could say "s'more". I woke up to the big dog slobbering on my pillow. Home away from home, indeed! Speaking of s'mores, we didn't have any. Which, I'm pretty sure, is a law - you must consume at least one s'more per person during a camping trip. The by-laws state (and I quote) "each camper must hold one to two marshmallows on the end of a sharpened stick or skewer until it a.) bursts into flames and said camper flings the molten mass into the eye of another unsuspecting camper, or b.) it becomes black and crispy and disappears into a puff of smoke on contact. These must make contact with chocolate and graham crackers at some point and the entire sticky concoction consumed by each and every camper present. Repeat nightly as needed." And we broke that law! I still have a scar from a particularly jovial round of s'more making and I just was not willing to take any chances. Please do not tell the Ranger! The charm of setting up the camper never fails to enchant me. Just a few cranks, pull the beds out, put down the stabilizers and we've got ourselves one seriously pimped out playhouse. With curtains that open and close! A sink with hot water! An adorable dining table! A couch! A little needlepoint pillow that says "home is where you hook up"! OMG! You can take your little home anywhere with you. Except maybe Yellowstone. Or Yosemite. Or other places where grizzly or black bears are in abundance and enjoy terrorizing humans. You might THINK you are cozy and snug in your little playhouse on wheels. But that bear takes one look and thinks "you think you scare me with your mildew-resistant sunbrella fabric walls and aluminum-foil door?" right before he reaches through one of the plastic-zippered windows with one multi-daggered claw and rips your head off. But, seriously? Camping is FUN!