Feeling campy

First of all, before my husband gives me anymore grief (“You’re just going to disappoint your LOYAL READERS?”), let me just say that I am going to start a Dear Sarah advice column, probably focusing mostly on booze (hey, it’s what the people want!) I will first answer Mermanda‘s question, but if you have any you’d like to ask, please do so! I am a self-proclaimed expert in black eyeliner and champagne, in case you have any pressing inquiries about those fascinating topics.

Today’s post, though, is to recap our camping trip from this past weekend. In case you couldn’t tell or didn’t already know, I’m not one for camping. I like the outdoors fine, I just prefer a bed and a shower (and room service and valet) if I’m going on vacation. Well, as luck would have it, I married quite the lover of camping. Chris has been trying to get me to go for years, insisting that he camps the “right” way and that I would have a good time if I went.

Well, I trust the guy a little bit and once in awhile I like to make sure he’s happy, so “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go camping!”

And. It really wasn’t bad. Actually, it was kind of fun…

I drank champagne.

I read fashion magazines.

I took a nap.

We played cards…

We roasted marshmallows for s’mores.

Burnt the first batch.

And then, in the drunken dark, stepped on all of them, getting melted ‘mallow all over our Uggs/jeans/leggings.

Oops.

We admired the scenery…

And then the next day, I took Chris on an 8 mile hike…

(Feather Falls – 6th tallest waterfall in the U.S.!)

Three point five days later, and we’re still sore…

I may never go on a week-long camping trip, but for an overnighter, it was definitely a good time! (That statement brought to you by Barefoot Bubbly.)