Packing for camping is brutal, because if you're forced to leave the camping area and go to some civilized area to buy something, it makes you a kind of, well, camping pussy. The last time I went camping with Em and her kids, Em graciously pestered the other campers for a can opener so we could make Sloppy Joes. This is acceptable. This is not a camping pussy. No, I , once, when deprived of coffee, (after scary night animal encounters) snuck off with the car to buy instant and a hot cup of coffee at a gas station, and then, once I got a taste of that fresh convenience store brewed delight, I stopped at McDonalds for two sausage mcmuffins with egg. (After all, once you give yourself permission, quantity is not an issue.) When I got back to the campsite, Serge was still sleeping.
Having recognized my pussiness, I hooked up with a twelve step program for camping pussies and I am working on step one:
During the sacred act of camping, one will not be seduced by the lure of easy procural of necessities.
So, you can see that full and complete packing is essential to moving onto step two, being the McDonald's sneaker offer that I am.
The camping list I wrote ran away and can't be found anywhere. You know, I've got the writing of the list down okay, but the finding of said list is always a problem. (Why don't I let that happen with toilet paper?) Was it on a napkin? In one of my student folders? My wallet? Argghh! No, it's in none of those places because I had the bright idea to put it somewhere that I knew would be with me all the time. (The back page of my appointment book.) This detail was remembered upon arriving home after the camping shopping trip. And I forgot the can opener, again.
Things we look forward to doing at 1000 Islands park in Ontario: Eating, swimming, and then eating some more, walking, playing cards, eating, walking, marshmallows, looking at the stars, contemplating, sleeping.
Things we will not be placing in the same category: Scary night animal encounters, mosquitoes, talking to other campers, hiking to the outhouse, having to pee in the middle of the night. Trying not to splatter the tent.
What this all means for you is that I will not be updating the blog until Monday, when I will be full of tales of natures's charisma. Until then, I invite you to check out this, it's hours of sheer delight, I promise.