Our camping excursion last weekend was an adventure. It brought back memories of family camping trips when I was a little girl. No trips to Disneyland for us, we couldn’t afford them. My folks crammed my brother’s and I into the old Chevy with a tent, air mattresses, sleeping bags and hope for a good time. From my perspective at 7, it was. I can’t speak for them.
Last weekend my son was the organizer. This was not his typical camping style. He usually climbs mountains, carves ice caves and sleeps in them. This was tame for him and wild for my grandson.
My grandson started out wearing a lovely, sky blue, Ralph Lauren polo shirt and ended up utterly filthy. I loved watching him cover himself in dirt. I started out in clean jeans and ended up a disaster.
The first day was fabulous. My son thought it funny that I grilled Asparagus and fresh Swordfish for dinner. He claimed weenies and beans were the norms. Not for me. A Well Styled Life is not where, but how, you live your life!
Day at two, we woke up to rain. Cold, damp, persistent rain. My husband and I copped out and headed for a nearby cafe.
What I wore? Things that kept me warm. A hat I knit six years ago, a fisherman’s cardigan I knit ten years ago and no makeup.
So the verdict? I’m not tent camping material. My back is killing me from sleeping on the ground!
We leave to pick up our travel trailer tomorrow. It’ll be two days before we haul that baby out on the road. I’ll keep you posted and bring you along. I sincerely hope I am trailer material.