A little mon, sun and fun

When I was growing up, we never went to Disneyland. But every summer we went camping at least a half-dozen times. I lived for camping. I lived for riding in my family's camper, having my brother tease me relentlessly, catching lizards, imagining where Sasquatch was hiding out, picking out my grab bag in Jackson Hole and fishing at Panguitch Lake. These times were better than anything I could have imagined happening on Space Mountain.

I'm not sure when the sparkle of planning 3 meals-a-day to be cooked on an open fire, forgetting insect repellent and purchasing more at a convenience store for 10 bucks or washing clothes for 5 days solid after returning home faded for me, but it did. I detest camping. Not the actual being in the mountains. I still love that part. I just don't like much of anything else camping entails. Way too much work and the initial "it-will-be-less-expensive-to-go-camping-than-stay-in-a-hotel" thinking always gets me. Alas, when you have a little boy, you have a moral obligation to take him camping. So even if I yearn for the camper days, I push it aside and proceed with a smile for The Boy. It never fails; he doesn't let me down.

A few days ago we pitched our tent just down from Monte Cristo and swam in Pineview Reservoir. And honestly, I didn't mind it. The Huz being kindred spirits with the late Doug Miller always makes it more than tolerable. My foil dinner wasn't charred and I could have floated on my inflatable armchair another day or two. Not to mention the excitement of The Boy playing on the beach and our Labrador endlessly paddling along in the refreshing water. Of course I forgot our camera - the one item I indicated with an asterisk on my packing list - because I could have captured memorable moments like Maizy floating on said inflatable armchair or Mocha making her a little dog bed out of sand or Jameson giving his Dad a 'thumbs up' for building the perfect roaring bonfire or when The Boy didn't stop chattering with excitement the entire time he was searching for cool rocks in the river. Oh well, they live in my memory. And hopefully they live in my little boy's as well.