Thursday, January 27, 2011

Turns out, I am not a camper.

There have been times over the past few years when I have dreamed of camping out under the stars. Of taking my, now 4 year old, son out to a place where few feet have walked, building a fire and lazily toasting marsh mellows for s'mores after a filling meal of .

Then my husband looks up at me from his computer, cocks his eyebrow and says one simple word. "Why?'

This frustrates me, and I wax on about being able to show my son constellations he cannot see in a subdivision/city like the one live in, unplugging for a night or two and teaching him how to build a campfire. This usually results in laughter and "What ever you say honey" and we forget we ever had the conversation. Until I bring it up again.

We've even got all the equipment we need - a tent, blow up mattress, sleeping bags, camp stove, backpacks, camp chairs - and I even considered buying a camp sink this year, but I didn't. Time and time again I resolve that we will go camping, that my son will have an experience with his parents that I never had with mine and that my three months of camping every weekend (granted with scads of other folks, toilets and showers while working at the Renaissance Festival in San Bernadino, CA) would not be the only camping experience I had in my life.

And then, we lose power and I remember all the reasons why the tent in our garage is still in it's box.

My body does not do well with extreme temperatures. I need it to be somewhat constant and somewhat warm.
I like my food warm and my dirty dishes in a dishwasher.
I can't see that well in the dark, and no - a headlamp is not a great way for me to get light in the right place.
I prefer modern toilet facilities.
Since I cannot just fall asleep when I will myself to, sometimes the nights without power get to be really long, really cold (or hot depending on the season) affairs.
My son has the same sleeping problem I do - and is cranky when he doesn't get enough sleep either.
The ground is not a great place for someone with fibromyalgia to sleep.

The good news - the power was off for just 26 hours.

The better news - the heat is humming and warming the house back up to a point where it is not painful for me to sit, stand, lay down or type.

The bad news - my son will probably NEVER get to go camping with his parents. At least not in a tent. Oh - and I should think twice before moving to a state that has more snowfall than Virginia.

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