Camping

A lot of people don't understand my need for camping. Nick at least supports it. He took me on my first camping trip, outside of the girl scouts, so he only has himself to blame. I can't live without camping. I can make it a month or two in between trips before I start obsessing again. And obsessing is almost an understatement. I research places to camp for weeks on end and start checking the weather forecast as soon as it's available. I plan the menu weeks in advance and make my shopping list. I pack and repack all of my camping supplies. I think I like the preparation as much as the actual camping. Nick jokes that I just like to pack the car with all of my camping supplies, but its more than that. I still have to set up our campsite and hike around the area, search for alligators, and look at all of the RVs. Then, my favorite part, I get to make dinner outside on my little propane griddle (we had burn bans in Texas, so I gave up cooking over the fire). Camping is good for me. I think that, despite all of the work, it is the only time I truly relax. Nick and I pop open our camp chairs and some ice cold beers and we talk. All Night. No interruptions. Well, there is the occasional raccoon or armadillo, which gets Daisy barking, but other than that, there is just us talking. It is wonderful. If we were at home, we would be watching movies and I would be doing the dishes and the laundry and sweeping or mopping or any of the other chores I have convinced myself are completely necessary to do over the weekend. Camping keeps me from all that, of course, I have to catch up the next weekend, or on Sunday evening. But for a whole night, we just camp.