Finding Joy in Snarkville

…perhaps you might want to avoid my campsite.

Oh sure, I have the super duper cool, tree room tent, with a screened gazebo.  I have chairs, marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.  I also seem to be completely amusing my husband with my dislike of dirt.

In my defense, I wasn’t ready for the fact that since I live in the world of no rain that the camp ground would be so dusty — I mean clouds of dust springing up when you walk.  That dust that sucks the little moisture out of your skin and makes you want to constantly wash your hands.  Yes, that level of dust.

But back to my story.  Apparently when faced with a single night of camping (read: hardest work on the planet), I turn into a raving lunatic.  Seriously, worse than normal.  Here’s proof:

1. I packed the car all by myself.  It was a masterful puzzle of pieces that got everything in the car, tight and perfect.  I did this while the boys were at class.
2. I was annoyed that Prince complimented my car packing skills.  You see he’s always the one who packs the car.  I decided I could do it and I did it and frankly I was good at it.  I have no idea why his compliment annoyed me — though I suspect it was a deep fear that I’d have to keep loading the car.
3. Driving to the campground, we drove by some beautiful valleys (think twisty roads, sharp drop offs, intense road grades, and rock faces really close to the road.  To add fun, this already narrow two lane road would occasionally NARROW more.)  I added to the fun by alternatively sucking in air and oohing over the glorious beauty and declaring that Prince isn’t allowed to look — sorry no, you must focus on not hitting that rock that I’m sure you will hit — WILL.YOU.PLEASE.SLOW.DOWN.  (Also, he got the thrill of worrying about us getting car sick — all of us, Duke, Me and the Dog.)
4. We get to the campsite.  We set-up camp.  I’m all helpful by putting up the tent.  Prince unpacks my perfectly packed car.
5. Prince leads the charge to find firewood.  I sweat and complain about dirt.  Prince is amused and also a wee bit scared.
6. Duke is having a blast making dust clouds and chasing the dog.
7. We get back to camp and I begin to make dinner, discovering in the process that though I packed dog food — it never made it into the tote of food.  (Also, realizing that we didn’t leave more food down for the cats –all animals are fine, the cats were a wee bit more anger that we left them though.)
8. Duke declares he doesn’t like what I made.  No worries, since I completely overpacked food, we made THREE total meals for dinner — think of it like a sampler platter.
9. We roast marshmallows.   I make exactly ONE s’more.  I eat it.  I offered it to Duke who declared he didn’t want a graham cracker — but he’d accept the s’more if I’d make it without the graham cracker (um, dude, I’m not giving you marshmallows and chocolate and sending you to bed — how insane do you think I am.  Also, stop getting dirty.)
10. Duke went to bed.
11. I have no idea what happened to Duke between going to bed and sleeping — but when we checked on him about 10pm, he was sound asleep, not in his sleeping bag, and though he only had a sleeping bag, air mattress, and his clothes in his tent — his tent was a MESS.
12. Prince and I read for a bit by lantern light.
13. I listened to my iPod and went to sleep.  Prince complained about our talkative neighbors.  I couldn’t get comfortable — a feeling that was echo’d by the dog who couldn’t decide where/with whom/if he was going to sleep.
14. Dawn thought about cracking and Duke awoke.
15. Duke and I snuggled for a bit in the cool morning and then we got up to make breakfast.
16. I made the single best pot of coffee ever — on my campstove.
17. We broke camp.
18. Tired and cranky, I’m sure I was a delight as I pulled down the tent, packed it away, and such.
19. Prince tried to recreate the perfection of my packing.  Somehow it not only wasn’t happening, even though we threw out a trash bag of stuff while there, we had somehow expanded enough to be a tighter fit.  I even had trouble packing it up and thus it became a group effort.
20. We got on the road, chose a different WAY twisty/dangerous route home.  Duke slept.
21. I declared that if we were going to do this again, we had to do it better next time.

Then I stopped.  Then I retold the story of the trip again and remembered the single best thing.  On Sunday Morning I woke up and asked Duke, “So, what’s the best thing about being five thus far?”  “Roasting Mashmallows, that’s my favorite.”  He’s also been asking to go camping again since arriving home yesterday.  Maybe he didn’t notice that I wasn’t much fun.

Home again, bathed and tired.  I feel better.  I have declared that I will not do this one night camping trip again.  That’s too much work not to get at least two days out of it.  And I think two days might be my limit for dirt.  I fear my idea of roughing it is more like a 3 star hotel, than a tent in the woods.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 11th, 2008 at 9:11 am and is filed under On the Road Again. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.