The Great Indoors


Now this is my idea of a campground! Image courtesy of

Luckily, we weren’t a camping family. Mom camped with my grandparents and uncle, when she was young, which I so wish I could have seen. Today, she is…let’s say…very indoorsy.

I don’t understand the whole camping culture. Mom goes to REI for things she needs for running, and they have everything for the camper: Tents, mosquito nets, sleeping bags. People do this for fun?! I sure have a different definition of “fun.” For me, it means sleeping in a hotel and not living off the land. Catching fish means retrieving a can of tuna that someone has tossed my way.

A slumber party favorite (heck with the slumber party, I just watched it a couple days ago) is “Troop Beverly Hills.” Now, that troop and I have similar ideas of “roughing it.” Or “glamping,” as I’ve recently heard it called.


Summer Morning

I had no idea about what, I just felt like writing today. I guess you can call this a post about nothing. Actually I have a point; it’s just not the most important.

What’s your favorite season? I am a warm-weather person. I love summer. Feeling 95+ temperatures on my skin and looking out my French doors and seeing the backyard full of color is my favorite. I have wonderful summertime memories: Playing in the sprinklers (this was obviously before the drought), riding bikes after dinner, and also after dinner visiting with Mary, the elderly woman across the street. So sweet, but as with lots of old people, she could be cranky. Mary would be puffing on her cigarette, while complaining our very uppity next-door neighbors.

About September, though, I was ready for winter. I had grown sick of my summer wardrobe, but would need it for at least another month. I would look at sweaters and long to wear them. I was tired of hearing the air conditioner click on longed for the dead-skin smell of the heater the first time it’s turned on for the season.

I guess you could me fickle. But I guess I shouldn’t complain. It is currently 9:48 a.m. It is 73 degrees, but there’s supposed to be a high of 92. People in other parts of the country would kill for such weather! I am in the backyard, the sky is bright blue, the plants are full of color, and Maggie is taking a nap in the shade.

No sweater needed this morning!

No sweater needed this morning!

I guess I shouldn’t complain about my wardrobe—maybe sweaters are overrated.