Vacationing . . . Star Style

I would first like to point out that I love camping. . . but more in theory than practice. I loved reading The Boxcar Children growing up, the idea of living off the land (or off a rich Grandpa's left-over vegetables) was incredibly enticing and fresh-caught trout sounded so fantastic.

That being said, a week in a tent has wearied me to the bone. And that's with an air mattress.

Don't get me wrong, I really do love parts of camping. Mainly the daytime parts. During the night my mind gets WAY too active and I think about

1) Do I have to pee?

2) remote wilderness would be a good place to hide if I were a serial killer.

3) Hm. I might have to pee.

4) That guy from the next site over looked at me funny, as if he might be a serial killer.

5) What the HECK is that ringing* sound?!?

6) Crap. I might as well brave the 5 minute walk to the bathroom just in case it rains in an hour. I wouldn't want to walk through that.

. . . aaaand repeat.  I seriously went to the bathroom 5 times during one night - and 3 of those times it wasn't until I was nearly there that I woke up and realized I didn't have to go. I took a muscle relaxant the next night just to calm the heck down.

But we got lots of good pictures to show the kids when they're older so we'll be able to prove to their therapists that we did indeed provide positive family experiences such as: 

Copper Mine tour: hard hats are to protect against the zillion bats

Awkward Family Photo.

Little Frog sinking to a Lord of the Flies level of grime and mayhem.

Okay so it really wasn't so bad. I do like camping. Just maybe not in a tent for 6 days. I still feel a little crazy.



*That ringing sound we heard for 4 days straight (mostly at night) was a bell attached to a buoy out in Lake Superior, at least a mile away. Ring Ring Ring RingyRing Ring Ring Oh My Flipping RING.



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