In an effort to grab some quality family time this summer, we decided to pack our tents and our relatives and camp out for the 4th of July weekend.And not only did we have FUN, we also learned some important lessons.
Like how to put up a tent (times 3)...
That your camping neighbors appreciate it when you keep the lid closed on the vault toilet...
How to split wood....
How to make popcorn and coffee over an open fire...
And how to jump a dead car battery.
But some of the most memorable lessons happened away from the campground. On our final morning there, it started to rain. Due to some lightning and some anxiety and some leaky tents, we spent a good part of our "sleeping" time in our vehicles. Finally, it was decided that we should drive into town to grab some breakfast while we waited out the storm. We squeezed into two cars and caravaned to town. As we neared the fast food restaurant my husband looked over and said, "We're going in, right?" I just stared at him. HE might be going in with his shorts and tshirt and hair that never has to be combed...but MY bedraggled, stinky, matted hair, racoon-eyed, shoeless, bra-less, pj-wearing self was absolutely NOT getting out of that car. He was lucky I was willing to ride through the drive-thru with him. (Let it be known that I will do a lot of things for a hot cup of coffee in the morning.) Fortunately, with my parents in the car, we out-numbered Hubby 3 to 1 and the consensus was "We are not going in." But as we pulled into the parking lot, my father-in-law pulled his SUV into a parking spot. We couldn't believe it! "Are they going in?!" We pulled up beside them as he rolled down his window and said with a somber face and voice, "We are not going in." Our whole car erupted with laughter! Apparently they had been having the same conversation!We made it through the drive-thru, waited a considerable time for our bags of food, and headed back to camp. Lesson #1 - Always check your order before you leave the parking lot. Not only had they neglected to give us ketchup, but Yancy and Hillary had ordered cinnamon sugar biscuit holes which had been put in the bag with no icing to dip them in. Apparently this was Hubby's last straw. Back into town we flew.
When we arrived, he went straight to the counter to resolve the issue while I darted into the bathroom (the allure of a flushing toilet overriding my pride). When I came out, I saw my large husband, feet planted, finger pointing, deep voice booming "..so will you PLEASE give me another one!" I pretended I didn't know him and headed to the car, all the while thinking, "Lady, he might be saying the word 'please' but he is NOT being polite!" He entered the car triumphantly, 3 small containers of icing in hand. Apparently, restaurant policy is one icing per order - regardless of whether said order is a 6 piece or a 12 piece. But Yancey's policy is one container per every 6 biscuit holes. And they had already caused him considerable trouble that morning...and manager or no, by golly, he was getting his icing! And the final lesson of the day - Never, never come between a large, hungry, sleep-deprived man and his cinnamon sugar biscuit holes dipped in icing.
2 comments:
I had a great week-end, I just wish the rain had held off a couple days-All in all I think we did pretty good once we got Paul & Yancey straightened out on "dining in".
Looking forward to the next campout.
Love-Sheila
I also enjoyed the camp-out. Except for the rain. We finally got our tent dried out by Sunday afternoon. But I will say, after all that trouble, Yancey deserved all the icing he wanted. After all, he wasn't just fending for himself, he was getting for his child as well. And he knew he'd have to share. I'm proud of him for standing up to it like that. MIMI
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