Kasey and I went camping last weekend.
Not just the two of us mind you. Though every woman wants to escape now and again, I typically like to escape to places where I can wash my hands at will and locate an extra pair of socks in the middle of the night.
We braved the elements with husbands and children in tow. And when I say braved, I do mean braved. It takes a little bit of crazy to camp in tents with infants.
We had a good time and the "goodness" of it all was helped along by the fact that we didn't cook a single meal for 24 hours. I don't know what it is about that fresh mountain air that makes men feel the need to be domestic but I'd like to bottle me up some and burn that in my sentsy. I know boys can be entertained by fire for hours and I guess when you pair fire with food it's something their kind never does grow out of.
We couldn't help but notice how much of the food that we LOVE eating when camping, we would never stoop to eat at home.
I love hot dogs in the mountains, but if you tried to call that dinner at home, I would not be impressed. Same thing goes for warm marshmallows for dessert. I don't even like marshmallows. And the chips. Oh the chips. We never have them in our house but when we head for the hills we load up on the worst of them--extreme puff cheetos and double-fried potato chips dipped in calories. Bleck.
I'm pretty sure that the "love" has a lot to do with the fact that I'm not doing any of the food prep...and maybe a little bit of smoke intoxication, lack of sleep, and general deprivation of normal life.
Can we go back next weekend?