misgivings of a camping novice

I'm Dutch.

Let me just start with that.

At least, I become the Dutch of my father when episodes such as this unfold.

Camping.  But not deep wilderness.

7 people.

2 cars.  2 car toppers.  2 coolers.  7 sleeping bags, 6 pads, 1 cot, 8 pillows, 2 tables, coleman stove, pots and pans for 7 plus 3, a canopy, 7 small duffels, food for three plus eight days.

I have hives.
And we have not even pulled out of the driveway yet.

Jim is in his glory, and he is so sweet and excited.
And he is doing SUCH a magnificent job of preparing us all for comfort and fun.

Me?
Right about now Jim's description of backpacking is sounding so right up my alley.

In my family, we road tripped and didn't stop for anything.
If you had to go potty, the car only pulled off the road at timed intervals on the same side of the highway.
None of that cross over the bridge to the rest stop nonsense.

In my family, we camped.  Once.
When Mom, Kirsti and I went to freshen up in the morning we returned to the tent down and dad packing up the wagon.
"Breakfast at Country Kitchen, girls."

We rented a cabin the next summer and bought one a few years later.
 True.
Dad, I know you are smiling now.

Jim's family?  Intrepid Clampett campers.
Excelled at camping in Colorado.
Have the BEST memories and stories ever of camping together for years and years as a family.
And packed everything under the sun.
Lashed things to roofs, mounted items on sides of cars.
Camped with the kitchen sink.  Theirs, and the neighbors.
It's always good to have an extra just in case, you know!
You betcha.

I went with them once.
It was wonderful.
I was 22.
I'm sure I didn't pack a thing, lift a hand or contribute in any way to helping.
I did have fun.

But I didn't load the car.
Or watch my husband do it.

It's the loading that has me breathless.
And the thought of unloading it all again.
Can't we just fling a few clothes and a fleece in a bag and call it a day?
Who needs food or flashlights.
See how sassy I am here now in the creature comforts of my urban home.

The middle part of camping sounds delightful.
And I know I'll adore every single thing my beloved husband has packed to bring us comfort and joy.
Truly.  I do.

And I'll write a post all about it.
Singing his accolades.
He is truly accolade worthy.

And you all, especially Nana, Papa, Gogo and Pa, will laugh at me.
I'll deserve it.

But me, right now?
Not so much.
I'm hiding in the living room stalking Cooper's facebook page and wishing for escape.
Paralyzed.

Apparently I'm not participating in any character refinement or sanctification yet.
I'm just freaking out.
And Jim is too sweet and polite to say.
Or just too darn excited.

He's so cute when he is like this.
It is like all his dreams have come true and he is going to provide for us in our rustic setting forever.

You see?  He'd have been a great, great pioneer.
I clearly would have been sitting on my rump back east forever.
All my dreams of Laura Ingalls and My Antonia are washing away.....

Goodbye, family and friends.
Pray for Jim.  He needs it right now.  I'm a caricature of myself.  It is scary, really.

We'll send a postcard.  I know we are actually going to have a ball!
After all, we are going here: