Camptastic: Returning to the Scene of the Crime

This is not our camp sight.  But it is what it felt like to
me because I am a bit melodramatic.

I think I should get something for returning to the camp site.  And I'm not talking about poison ivy or Lyme disease or anything, which seems most likely in view of my camping luck thus far.

Ezra and I returned to the campground mid-morning on Saturday.  On the way there I called my mom, who was a bit concerned having been trapped away from home herself the previous evening due to intense flooding of the roads.  I also stopped en route at Target, where I bought only a sleeping bag. (Syke.  It was Target, so of course I bought more than one thing.  I also bought five disposable rain ponchos, leggings for Hosanna, and sanity chocolate for me.)

When we arrived back to camp it was still raining, but at least this was more "miserable drizzle" than "oh-heck-no downpour."  Brian and the girlies shared a damp night in the tent, but because theirs is a group mixed of manly men and adventurous children, they were all "it was so fun!"  Liars, all of them.

I spent some time huddled around a picnic table with Rick, his wife Jenny, and a few others who were intent on telling me the worst camping stories you could imagine.  It was kind of like when you are pregnant and everyone wants to share their labor stories, simply to horrify you with what is surely in store encourage you that they survived, and you will as well.

One man, who will remain nameless due to the nature of this story (Nick), told of a trip when his un-staked tent was flipped over by the wind while he was sleeping inside.  Also in the tent?  His used chamber pot.  Even after that experience Nick this man is still a committed camper.  And by committed I may mean "needs to be committed to an institution."  I think I will buy him a Hazmat suit for Christmas, because while REI neglects to put this on your "Must Have's for Camping" list, I now know the truth.  You're welcome, Nick Unnamed Friend.

This is me totally cooking my burrito
over a camp fire.  I'm pretty sure this
makes me an official Professional
Camper. Camping like a boss.

I spent more of the afternoon chatting in the Field House with Denise, Jenny, Tiffany, Amy, Grace, Karen, Carrie, and a bunch of other women I'm forgetting to list. It was like Girls Gone Wild without any of the alcohol, flashing, or intense partying.  We discussed the nutritional value of Hot and Spicy Cheez-its and Nutter Butters.  My philosophy is that both are protein packed in theory only and therefore the perfect post-volleyball snack.  Craig, Denise's husband and an elder in our church agreed with me, so I'm pretty sure I'm going to be teaching a nutrition class at church pretty soon.  (Well, me and the pastor's wife Nora, who wore her "Kale is the new beef" t-shirt.)(Well, probably just Nora will teach it.)

I returned to the camp sight to cook my first camping meal over an open fire = burritos. (See nutritional theories above for an idea about my burrito philosophy.)

The rain took a permanent break around 3:00 p.m. This was well timed as we had a baptism scheduled for 4:00 p.m., and would have preferred clear skies for our outdoor meeting.  Several people got baptized, including this young couple, shown here with their freaking adorable baby, Jack.

Eden and Chris and baby Jack.  (Coincidentally, they also used the camp sight next to ours and saved the day with their mad camping skills that included packing mustard and ketchup.)

Day Two ended on the scariest note possible.  But since this is already longer than most of my normally concise posts,  I will tell that story tomorrow.  But remember the helicopter teaser from yesterday?  Pretend you are reading for the first time right now:  Stay tuned for tomorrow's conclusion of Camptastic : Returning to the Scene of the Crime (Part 2). There may be an imaginary helicopter rescue involved.