Of the many things that I like, camping is right up there on the list. I love camping. I love the relaxed, go nowhere, do nothing, basic, basic, basic of camping. I love getting to the campsite, I love the set up, and I love the mornings, where my job is to cook pancakes from a mix, and flip them one at at time onto eager plates. I love the tiny coffee mugs, and the real cutlery and plates that I bring from home. I even like the wash-up. And then, the day is open before us. What to do; almost anything and nothing. Play catch? Play a game of Battleship? Knit? Go to the beach? Go for a walk to the marina? Nap? Visit friends? Play volleyball on the beach?
So much free time, so much to do. The other thing that I love, is that when you’re camping, you are still allowed to march along the sidewalk, swinging your sister’s hand, while singing “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” without a care in the world, and certainly without any idea that your mother is sneaking/running up behind you to snap a picture of you doing that very thing. Because she loves it so much.