As I sit at my kitchen table this evening, I’m feeling nostalgic about all the things we’ve gone through on this blog, Facebook and Twitter. We’ve had some memories and I want you to know I treasure them. I am going camping tomorrow and need to say good bye just in case.
“Your not going camping!” My 12 year old P informed me.
“Well it’s not a hotel,” I countered.
“Yeah, but it’s not camping.”
In a last ditch effort as he walked away, I meekly yelled, “they’re gonna make me swim in a pond….”
“Your not swimming in a pond.” He retorted.
So yesterday I made out my list. I never want to impose on anyone and I want to be as comfortable as possible so here is my checklist:
Yes I’m taking a frother and yes I’m taking my espresso machine because the nearest town I’ve heard is 45 minutes away and even then I’m guessing the best latte will be from a gas station. That’s not a chance I’m willing to take.
The pocket knife?
To fend off bears plus many a horror story was in the sticks. Again, not taking chances.
And going back to what my son said, he’s right. I’m not camping. I’ve been invited to a cabin that has electricity, running water and I’m hoping AC. And I am grateful and honored! I hope to make new friends and I hope my inability to survive in the wilderness or really anything less than a Hampton Inn doesn’t offend them. As you know I have a severe phobia of snakes which will obviously dictate what I decide to do (drink) and not do (swim in pond). To say I fit into the country is on par with saying OJ should be back in society.
I’m still praying to the internet Gods to grant me wifi over the weekend so I can post. Regardless, I’ll be writing about the weekend as if I’m sending letters from camp. So if you don’t hear from me for a few days, I’m either off the grid, been killed by a bear or lost.
P.S. As I’m typing this, I get the following text from my friend who is already down there. I’m picturing 4 women, passed out by the drink, in the diaper aisle.