outward bound

Against what I consider to be one of my better instincts (and I would classify most of such instincts to be related to maintaining integrity of the integumentary system and related parts), Joe and I decided that we're going to take the kids on a camping trip this weekend.  I have nothing against wholesome family fun per se, and despite my bookish and wan appearance have even been on a camping trip or two in my own youth, but here, in no particular order, is a list of some things I hate, and which make spending a night in the woods a bit of a hard sell:

• Being dirty.
• Being cold.
• Bugs.
• Not being able to take a shower.  
• Sleeping on the floor.

(Is hate too strong a word?  Maybe.  And yet...you've seen bugs, right?)

Anyway, I dislike many of the elements of camping, but be that as it may, we're going camping this weekend because it seems nutritious and cleansing somehow, the spiritual equivalent of a high-fiber cereal, and besides the kids have been begging us to go camping for almost a year now.  Who am I to cruelly deny them the simple pleasures of getting a billion bug bites and then tracking dirt clods and sweat into the sleeping bag, where I will spend a fitful night tossing and turning, maintaining a state of cat-like readiness in the event of bear attack or chainsaw massacre?  Only their mother who loves them, THAT'S WHO.

(Did I also mention that there's no Wi-Fi in the woods?)

Anyway, I exaggerate my low tolerance for All Things Nature, but to be fair, I like looking at fall leaves and verdant vistas just as much as any of my other vaguely geriatric pastimes, so we're all actually pretty excited about our camping trip.  So excited that, in the spirit of the proceedings, I even made four servings of "hobo stew" to bring with us and bury in the coals for dinner.

(If you are guessing that I was mainly swayed by the appending of the descriptor "hobo" to anything, you are correct, but our hobo stew contains chicken herb sausage with garlic and shallots garnished with a not insignificant amount of butter, therefore promising to be, if not tasty, then at least filling.)

We're leaving tomorrow morning.  Real-time Twitter updates for your fish-out-of-water amusement as iPhone connectivity allows, otherwise have a good weekend and we'll catch up when (and if) we return.