Roughing It

Our family just returned from a short camping trip.


Let's have a little refresher, shall we? Me and Camping. Like Seinfeld and Newman. Hillary and Obama. Plaid and Stripes. However, Me and my family's happiness? Like Scarlett and Rhett. Peanut butter and chocolate. Diet Coke and blogging.

Moms do things for their kids that they normally would not do for any other cute, little people wearing Old Navy t-shirts. So I decided to go along with Hubs' plan to camp at a local campsite.

Hubs is camping purist. If he had his way, we would be off in the Adirondacks miles from civilization or a Wal-mart, sleeping in a shelter made from sticks and leaves and foraging for food. You know, Survivor Man.

But he is not a cute little person wearing an Old Navy t-shirt.

So instead of freezing and starving to death in the woods we camped in a tent with a fire pit and proper restroom facilities within walking distance. To be honest, this campground was a little too modern and convenient, even for my taste. I think Hubs was trying to be careful not to scare me away completely from camping on our first outing. He even Googled for campsites with clean restrooms.

God love him. Because really, a man who understands my need for low bacteria count is the man for me.

The tent sites were adjacent to the RV site. Over the 18 or so hours we were there, we learned a lot about RV's and RV'ers.

For one, there is a huge need to keep the RV clean. We frequently observed RV'ers hosing down their vehicles. I suppose if I were constantly on the rode or parked adjacent to a complete stranger dumping things out of their camper, I'd want to be hosed down , too.

Secondly, in order to own an RV, one must be at least 65 and have a very small dog. I think it is on the RV application just below the line which says "I understand I am about to spend my entire life's savings on a gas-guzzling vehicle with poorly constructed laminate kitchen cabinets and a shower just big enough for my very small dog."

Another thing I noticed about the RV Culture is that a really good RV is named something that normally starts with a "C" but they cleverly start with a "K" instead. For example, "Kozy," "Kamping," and "Komfort" were all popular phrases found on freshly hosed retirement funds on wheels.

When we arrived, I (of course) had to check out the bathrooms. Taped on the Women's Restroom door was a flyer which advertised a "Potluck Dinner In The Gazebo" the following day. As soon as I returned to the campsite I informed hubs. We know how he loves a good potluck. Ahem.

Later on I was in the restroom using the facilities and a lady was in there also using the facilities. She then left without washing her hands. I thought to myself, "I hope she's not bringing the potato salad."

But, I'll bet her RV is sparkling clean.

We left before the potluck party, but it doesn't really matter. We weren't invited anyway. While on a walk yesterday morning I saw flyers on most of the RV's, inviting the owner to attend. We didn't get one; we're "Tent People."

Klassy.