06.30.04

I�m back. From outer space. Well, actually, from the mountains, but that�s pretty much the same thing, really.

Anecdotes from the camping excursion:

First of all, the tent. I decided that if I was going to help out on this campout thing, I definitely needed my own tent. There was no way I was going to spend 4 nights in a tent with 5 twelve and thirteen year old girls. I�d rather not participate until 2 a.m. in debates over Hillary versus Lindsay and Ashton versus Justin, thankyouverymuch. So I bring the brand-new shiny tent that my father-in-law gave my husband for his birthday.

The description of the tent on the box was �lightweight 2-person hiking tent.� Perfect, I�m thinking. Room for me, room for my bags. Except what the description should have read was �lightweight 2-person-as-long-as-those-people-are-both-anorexic-and-sharing-the-same-sleeping-bag hiking tent.�

What I got was a mini-tent. People would come up and say things like, �Oh how cute! Did you bring that tent for your dog?� When I lay down, the roof of the tent was literally 8 inches away from my face. I have developed a bad case of scoliosis from a week of climbing in and out of that thing. Not in a million years would I ever even consider sharing that tent with my husband. And I like my husband.

Then there was the issue of the whole almost-burning-down-the-forest thing.

See, we were encouraged to burn as much of our trash as we could so we wouldn�t have to haul a lot of it out of there. As there is a little bit of a pyromaniac inside of all of us, this was generally a fun time for all. But at one point I was burning a paper bag and a big chunk of ash floated up from the fire and landed in the nearest tree about 12 feet up. You cannot imagine the horror I felt at the sight of that red ember smoldering on that branch. Me and all the girls just stood there, frozen.

This is it, I thought. I�m going to single-handedly be the cause of the next great fire disaster in California. I was seriously considering scaling the tree and putting any resulting flame out with my own flesh. I figured that the adrenaline rush that usually accompanies those kinds of moments (you know, like when mothers find the superhuman strength to pull the doors off of burning cars to save their children or something) would dull the pain until I got the job done. Fortunately for me, the ember quietly self-extinguished before becoming a full-blown Smokey the Bear commercial. Insert Sigh of Relief.

I slowly turned to face the stunned girls and proceeded to give a shakey �Whew. That was fun! So, girls, how about we keep this our little secret, m�kay?� response that they all knew was complete crap. Later on that night at the other group�s campfire I overheard �Oh yeah, well, Ms. Anelie almost burned the forest down today!� I�m sure it didn�t look suspicious at all when I ran over and crammed a s�more in her mouth while nervously laughing it off. Ha, ha. These girls with their imaginations. So cute.

Other than that, the trip was fun. We were up in the most gorgeous spot--trees, a meadow, a babbling brook. Too bad the whole camping outdoors setup involves so many things like �dirt� and �insects,� or I might be all about it. And what�s up with the temperature getting down into the 30�s at night? I�m lucky that I was anticipating cramps (TMI) and had some extra ThermaCare heating packs so I could strap those babies onto the bottom of my socks at night or I would have been one unhappy camper. Literally. (Heh. Unhappy camper�)

But I have come to the conclusion that camping is infinitely easier for men if only for one reason. You really don�t know what discomfort is until you wake up in the middle of the night (after sitting up too fast in your Incredible Shrinking Tent and getting tarp-burn on your forehead) with the incredible urge to pee and realize that the misery of holding it until morning is only slightly less than the pain in the ass it would be to get up, find your shoes (after checking them for night visitors, shudder), find your roll of TP, find your flashlight, wander out into the dark of night in the woods, and pray not to squat on a stick because you�re too tired to remember where the �latrines� are. Not to mention, the loss of precious body heat that has built-up in your sleeping bag.

If I were a man, all I would need was either an empty water bottle, or a 3-inch opening in the zippered tent door. Bastards.

The joys of camping. High-maintenance has nothing to do with it.

:::

In other news, we are going to Lake Powell this weekend after all. Yay! At least this type of outdoor enjoyment involves a houseboat complete with a TV and DVD player. I can handle that.

And also, in case you haven�t noticed, I doing not so great on the whole switching my archives over to this site thing. In fact, I don�t think I�ve archived a single one of these new entries. But it will happen. Soon, I hope. In the meantime, I�m going to keep the borderline-insanity.com site going and try to update the archives over there (which you can reach by using the handy-dandy archive button below).

Happy Independence Day, everybody!

before ~ after