Big ones

Little ones

Ushy gushy mushy ones

Ones that wiggle and squirm.

I am going to Camp Blogaway in May.  It is a trip I WAS looking forward to:  a few days on my own (which as a single mom I don’t have too many of), a morning hike (which as a single mom living in the flats of Florida I don’t have too many of) and a chance to meet other folks who have decided to enter the world of blogging as I did a few months ago.  I opted to attend a smaller camp for several reasons:  some of the bigger camps have hundreds of attendees and I figured I would get lost in the crowd; I don’t know a single person and figured the larger conferences would have the mega bloggers and I would be a fish out of water not yet knowing all of the ins and out of the blogosphere and, finally, smaller groups might equate to smaller classes in college where there was a lot of interaction amongst participants.    

I signed up online and anxiously awaited my registration packet.  And then, heaven help me, it arrived.  My bliss and excitement turned to sadness and anxiety when I began reading it.  

“What did you expect” said Todd.  “It’s a camp in the woods”. 

“Yes, I know.  But it said rustic.  I like rustic.”  

I expected Big Cedar Lodge.  A camp in Branson, Missouri.    This is one of the cabins at Big Cedar Lodge. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is Camp Blogaway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They look pretty similar.  It was going to be a fun trip.  

And then the nightmare begins.  This is camp.  Real live Girl Scouts in the woods camp.  Bring your own gear and bond with nature.   With s’mores and campfires.  Yum.  And lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

This is the inside of Big Cedar Lodge.  I have camped here.  I like camping here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are no photos of the inside of Camp Blogaway because, alas, I fear,  there is nothing to photograph.  There are no sheets.  There might not be mattresses.  There are no refrigerators (except at the main lodge).  There are bears.  And lots of warnings about bears.  And lots of warnings about flashlights.  And warnings about not leaving food in your cabin because there are bears and “critters”.  But that you can bring food if it is left in the main lodge.  But that you shouldn’t walk at night without a buddy because there are bears.  There is nothing that says you shouldn’t walk to the lodge at night to get food with a friend and a flashlight but I am going to go ahead and make that leap.   Would these bears  be more interested in the friend, the food or the flashlight?!?  And is it good form to push a newly found friend into the path of the bear.  I am guessing I wouldn’t get a lot of links to my page after that! 

This is what I envision with no photographs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, mind you, you might think I am whining and complaining.  Let’s ignore the fact that I am!  This just isn’t what I was bargaining for.  I was thinking camp as in retreat.  What you call a working weekend.   Camp this.   Camp that.   Camp Blogaway.  Not fending for myself in the forest leaving breadcrumbs for the bears to enjoy as they stalk me. 

Todd says that camp means no walls so Big Cedar Lodge doesn’t equal a camp.  It equals a resort.  I was born and raised in the big city.  A stuffed moose on the wall, a chandelier designed to mimic a tree or walls designed of knotty pine constitutes rustic, woodsy and camp like for me!   And besides, there are trees and lakes all around.  That is a camp in the Dawn dictionary. 

I can live a day or two roughing it and I am sure I will be pleasantly surprised but I have more to whine about first.  (It might increase my chance of winning a private room.  I am going for pity factor here people!)

They didn’t mention snakes.   And until now, I haven’t yet mentioned my fear of snakes.  My irrational fear of snakes.  My all encompassing phobia about snakes.  My if I see one crossing the road while I am in my several ton vehicle I stop and wait for it to shimmy (hair on the back of my neck standing up) across the road because I don’t want to run over it for fear it will end up being tossed into my engine and somehow finding its way into my car phobia!  I probably wasn’t really going to participate in the aforementioned morning nature hike because of the possibility of encountering a snake during said nature hike.  Do bears keep away the snakes or do they travel the same roads waiting for unsuspecting campers to travel with a companion to the lodge for a soft drink?!?   And do snakes qualify as “critters” or just “why the hell do you live on the same planet as me creatures”.  Do they like snacks?  Someone please tell me about their preferred choice of snacks so I can rid the entire camp of them before bunking down. 

I am traveling from Florida to California.  I now am apparently traveling from Florida to California with a sleeping bag, sheets, towels and a flashlight.  If I want a snack of any sort, I will be traveling from Florida to California with a sleeping bag, sheets, pillow, towels, flashlight, ice chest, ice and snacks.  If I don’t want to pay for an additional seat for all of my camping gear, I am guessing clothes are out of the question.  And, in case no one has told you non-bloggers, a camera and laptop are requirements #1 and #2 on the blogger’s must carry with you at all times list.  So I will be traveling from Florida to California with a sleeping bag, sheets, pillow, towels, flashlight, ice chest, ice, snacks, camera and laptop.   Sorry lipstick.   No room for you on this trip!

There aren’t a lot of flights from the remote part of California where camp is held back to Florida on Sunday so I am spending the night in a hotel.  A hotel.  Apparently a novel concept for the Camp Blogaway folks.  Can you imagine how silly I will look when I check into my hotel with my sleeping bag, sheets, pillow, towels, flashlight, ice chest, ice, snacks, camera and laptop with nude lips.  They will think I have been camping for god sakes!

I haven’t even gotten started on the suggested clothing list.  Hiking shoes, socks, warm jacket, pajamas and UGGS would be nice.  Where in the hell am I supposed to fit hiking boots and UGGS along with all of the other assorted paraphenalia.  I just assumed we would wear what we arrived in until we left as there is absolutely no room in my suitcase for clothes.  Not if I want to sleep at night!   And did I mention that I will be traveling from Florida?  UGGS or hiking boots with my sundress?  A fashion faux pas for someone pushing 50 I am certain!

The next section says that suitcases and duffle bags are stowed in corners.  There is no mention of where to park the forklift I will need to bring all of this gear.  Does that go in the corner too?!?

Sigh.  So much for the relaxing weekend away from home.  I will be foraging for food and on the lookout for wild beasts waiting to accost at any moment.  Heaven forbid that I drink any of the wine at the happy hour and venture off the trail with a wine glass and, gasp, my flashlight sitting next to my corkscrew.   Not to mention the warnings about the effects of alcohol at high altitudes.  Coupled with the bears and that constant potential for snakes along with the back aches I am anticipating from all of the toting and lugging, I sure hope that Camp is fun. 

I am writing this post on the hopes that I will be chosen to have my own room.  After all, a woman with this much baggage (literally and figuratively) should be kept away from all of the fun loving campers she really really wants to meet.  I might find myself up all night clutching my flashlight examining the corners of the room for bears or snakes who might have crawled up around a bear’s neck to hitch a ride.  And I might be tempted to examine our cabin for anyone who might have brought a snack from the lodge and I will have to eat them all to keep us safe.  Yes, it is best to have me locked away from all the sane people so they can enjoy Camp Blogaway!

Nobody likes me.  Everybody hates me.   I might have to eat some worms!

A country preacher decided to skip services one Sunday and head to the hills to do some bear hunting. As he rounded the corner on a perilous twist in the trail, he collided with a bear, sending him and his rifle tumbling down the mountainside. His rifle went one way, and he went the other, landing on a rock and breaking both legs.

That was the good news. The bad news was the ferocious bear was charging at him, and he couldn’t move.

“Oh, Lord,” the preacher prayed, “I’m so sorry for skipping services today to come out here and hunt. Please forgive me and grant me just one wish: Please make a Christian out of that bear that’s coming at me. Please, Lord!”

That very instant the bear skidded to a halt, fell to its knees, clasped its paws together and began to pray aloud at the preacher’s feet:

“Dear God, bless this food I am about to receive…”

“I’ve been on a constant diet for the last two decades. I’ve lost a total of 789 pounds. By all accounts, I should be hanging from a charm bracelet.” — Erma Bombeck