Camping
To me, camping should be you surrounded by nature, crickets lulling you to sleep, pleasant woodsy smells, nature walks, campfire cooking. Peaceful. Unless I go camping during a holiday weekend. Then I know it will be crowded, there will be no sleeping, and there will be much alcohol. This weekend I was expecting the peace and instead I got the other. The Latinos that were way across the field from us did not turn their radio off until 3am. Don't think that because they were way across the field that we couldn't hear them. We heard every beat perfectly. While the music seemed fitting during dinner when we cooked quesadillas, it was less pleasant for the 3 hours I laid in the tent trying to fall asleep. I believe they stopped at 3am because that's when the rain came. I love falling asleep in my bed, listening to the rain. It's such a soothing sound. Unfortunately rain pellets banging onto a tent don't have that same soothing quality. The rain stopped around 6am. The drunken hillbillies walking around passed our tent at 1am. I can tell you what happened each hour of the night because I was awakened at least once an hour. If I even fell asleep at all.
The woman across the street yelled at her kid constantly. I don't think he was a bad child, I think his mom just had one volume level and it was set at screech. Two little dogs yip yapped all day to the left, and three monster german shepherds barked occasionally to the right. Miniature juvenile delinquents pegged the dumpsters with rocks and swore loudly every time they passed by. On the hay ride some little darlings spent the whole trip nailing everything and everyone with fistfuls of hay. Another monster harrassed other kids from his 4 wheeler.
But-
There was an old cemetary nearby and we walked around looking at the headstones. The kids got to fish and swim. We cooked s'mores and roasted hot dogs and made dozens of 'hobo sandwiches'. I made a roaring fire all by myself and coaxed it into staying through a small rain shower. It wasn't a total disaster. The next time we go camping though, I get to pick the place.
The woman across the street yelled at her kid constantly. I don't think he was a bad child, I think his mom just had one volume level and it was set at screech. Two little dogs yip yapped all day to the left, and three monster german shepherds barked occasionally to the right. Miniature juvenile delinquents pegged the dumpsters with rocks and swore loudly every time they passed by. On the hay ride some little darlings spent the whole trip nailing everything and everyone with fistfuls of hay. Another monster harrassed other kids from his 4 wheeler.
But-
There was an old cemetary nearby and we walked around looking at the headstones. The kids got to fish and swim. We cooked s'mores and roasted hot dogs and made dozens of 'hobo sandwiches'. I made a roaring fire all by myself and coaxed it into staying through a small rain shower. It wasn't a total disaster. The next time we go camping though, I get to pick the place.
posted by Mrs.B at 11:59 AM
2 Comments:
What's a hobo sandwich?
There's this thing that's kind of like a sandwich crimper, you put two pieces of bread in it, filled with whatever you want and then seal it up and hold it in the fire. We made quesadillas and pizza sandwiches in ours.
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