Chris likes to camp. Sammy likes to camp (a fact he discovered through scouting). Sabrina could go either way on camping, but throw in some friends and she's totally game.
Me, not so much.
Actually, that's a bit conservative. I don't camp. I have no desire to camp. And I'm pretty sure if I ever did actually camp, I would not be fit for human interaction in the morning. So I don't. It's better for everyone this way.
Now you might say, but what about a nice cabin? This is not what I'm talking about. If there is a bed and climate control and a way to keep nature out, that's not camp-camping. Tents. This is what I mean. No temperature regulation. Bugs. Dirt. No electricity.
No thank you.
Last weekend, Sabrina's scout troop decided to have a family campout. It was pretty free-flowing, given the number of other weekend activities in which these ambitious girls are involved. Come as you can, go when you want. A 2 night extravaganza - come for the crafts, stay for the s'mores. As you can imagine, this did not pique my interest, but it did for the other 75%. Fine. But I drew a line in the sand. I would come out Friday night, go home to sleep (since the site was about 20 minutes away), and come back for the daytime stuff. After s'mores, we'd all take off for home so we'd be rested for the early Sunday business we had. Cool? Cool.
It has been unseasonably warm of late, even for this neck of the woods. In fact, it's going to be 92 later this afternoon. But Friday night? 35. Degrees Fahrenheit. (Note: I just spelled Fahrenheit correctly on the first try, booyah!) Apparently, I was the sane fraction of the family because the nut cases agreed to stay the night. In a tent. 35.
According to my friend and our troop leader, who also stayed, it got down to 27 degrees over the night. I felt horrible for going home and not insisting all the other nutters do the same, and I lay awake all night worrying about them. I got coffee and donuts ready as soon as I could Saturday morning and headed back. Upon arrival, I heard the crazies wised up and headed for McDonalds instead of trying to cook breakfast over a campfire in 20 mile an hour winds. But still, so very cold. For us. You Northerners keep your lips still. We have thin blood in these parts. We'll talk when it's 108 and your skin is melting off your face.
It was a tidge warmer, but nobody argued about going home Saturday night.
Sabrina has spent 2 days home with a cold and fever, which I blame directly on the concept of camping. She's on the record as not even touching a tent pole unless the thermometer is above 60. I have someone on my side now.