|Tuesday, May. 28, 2002 || Really, its just another day|
Thanks to all of you for the b-day wishes in my guestbook. Makes one feel loved, ya know?
Speaking of birthdays, once you've passed the 21 year mark, for the most part, they really just seem to be another day. That's how it was this year. Being on a Sunday, the busiest day of the week for us, didn't help matters much, and it was just kind of, well, ordinary.
Now, don't get me wrong, there have been some birthdays in the past 11 years that have been more than ordinary. On my 24th, Rob whisked me away for the entire day: we had lunch out, went to a ball game, stopped for icecream, went out to dinner, and finished the evening off at the movies. And at that time, that was really special, as he was working full-time, going to school part-time, and I was at home all day, everyday with two rugrats in diapers.
My 30th I asked for a treadmill. He had a surprise dinner for me at a local restaurant with some friends and then took me to a nice hotel for the night. He really pampered me, though it didn't help thigh and butt spread in the least!
Then of course there was the year that we decided to go camping with friends. I think that was when I turned 26. We borrowed a tent and some camping equipment from another couple and unwittingly followed one of the biggest red necks, his wife, and their three kids to a spot right by a creek. That first day was actually quite nice, swimming, cooking out, talking and laughing by the fire into the night. It was at the point when I asked about bathrooms that things started spiraling quickly downhill.
"Up there," Rob casually replied, motioning to a faint trail in the woods.
"Up there?" That sure didn't look like a trail to a bathhouse.
"Yeah, in the woods. Au natural."
I made him follow me up there, scouring the area for poison ivy, and standing guard.
After settling in for the night, we were awoke by the sounds of rushing wind. No, it wasn't a charismatic moment, a thunderstorm was brewing. At about that time, we heard our red neck friend outside of his tent, yelling to the wind...
"YOU KNOW, YOU WAKE UP BECAUSE YOUR TENT IS BLOWING AWAY AND YOU THINK, 'WHERE'S DAD?' AND THEN YOU REALIZE, YOU ARE THE DAD!"
Good friends that we are, Rob and I lay silently in our tent, pretending we didn't hear a word!
The next day I awoke fairly grumpy. Did I mention that there is a plethora of rocks along a creekbed? Or that if you touch a tent that is wet on the outside, water proofing or not, the water comes in the tent?
We went about getting breakfast started. Rob had insisted, as we were packing for the jaunt, that a real camp breakfast consisted of fried potatos. "Fine," I told him, "You get to cook them." "Fine," he replied, so I packed up the cooking oil, potatoes, and iron skillet.
He happily set to the task of making all of us the best fried potatoes we would ever taste. After a bit, I looked over at him, bent over the Coleman stove.
"The potatoes just don't seem to be cooking," he replied, bewildered.
I looked in the pan. "What are you putting in there to cook them in?" I asked.
"The oil," he said, holding up a small jar with light yellow liquid in it.
"Uh...." I started to smile.
"What?" he asked.
"That's not the oil."
"That's not the oil."
"What is it then?"
"That's dishwashing soap."
You know, it is really tough trying to get almost a cup of soap out of an iron skillet in cold creek water. Especially when everyone around you can't stop laughing. At least we still had potatoes to spare, and yes, he did finally get to fix them the correct way (and they were quite good, as I recall).
After breakfast the guys went off with the kids, walking along the creek. I decided to lay on my lounge chair in the shallow water. And I fell asleep. At the time that seemed like a good idea. But did I mention that I had white-girl legs and back?
And you guessed it, I burnt to a crisp. The guys came back to find an even grumpier birthday girl. And finding out that the red neck had slung a water moccasin toward my darling hubby while on the trail did not brighten my mood any.
We packed up and headed home. No more roughing-it camping for this city girl.
The next time we went there was a bathhouse within 500 feet.
There was also the rain...
But that's a whole other story.
Nicole + Camping = Disaster.
Just a reminder - Friday, Aug. 10, 2007
Rockin' Girl Blogger - Wednesday, Jul. 18, 2007
A good end - Friday, Jun. 01, 2007
Moving on? Yes and no. - Monday, May. 07, 2007