Saturday, August 20, 2005

I find the term, "Ah...We're camping," to be somewhat flawed. Indeed your camping. At least I hope you are, if you're going to say it. So, first of all, it's a statement of the obvious. Second of all, it's an over used excuse. I dropped your sandwich, that's o.k. We're camping. I haven't shaved in a week, but yeah, we're camping. Ah, screw it. We're camping.
Most importantly, that statement is flawed because physically, scientifically, and emotionally you are still the same as when you're at home. Well, besides being a bit more sunburned, happy, tired, and carefree. But your germ tolerance doesn't officially go up. Your standards of beauty don't have any real reason to go down. Unless you're generally prettying up for the guy at the office. If you're that kind of person, you're probably not camping in the first place. You shouldn't be able to stand sand in your bed any more then usual simply because you're in a tent. "A little dirt never hurt anyone" should be as relevant in the backyard as around the campfire.
All the same, we use it. We use it like crazy from the first minute we set up our tarps and throw on our swimsuits. And, somehow, we come out better for that casual embrace-it attitude.
Ah, I was camping.
I played volleyball and wrestled on the beach. Stayed up late playing with coals. Whispered to the next sleeping bag. I went skinny dipping, and hiked trails. I windsurfed, dived from the dock and had to give in to sunscreen. I laughed. I ate s'mores after supper and smokies at midnight. I pulled on my hoodie well still wet from the beach, and sat around the campfire playing Mafia. I went rock climbing, repelling, and tried to out sing my cousin, to start the list.
In short, I enjoyed this years vacation. Did I really need to say that?

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