Family Camping: Take III

It's 6 am and I am up baking biscuits. They are from a can, but still, it is nearly impossible to express how unlike me this is. In my natural state I sleep until 9 and go out for brunch. Alas. My natural state is long gone.

I am up at this ungodly hour (it gives me headache to be up before 7) because Maggie woke up to announce her need to pee at 5 and the thought demons took this as the cue to worm their way into my consciousness, where they enjoyed a rowdy game of monkey-in-the-middle until I gave up on further sleep. Everyone else in the house is still snoozing away.

I'm keyed up because tomorrow morning we leave bright and early for Camp Mather. It's a family camp up near Yosemite that only residents of San Francisco can go to. You have to enter a lottery to get a spot. We did. We won. And now I spend my dawn hours making mental lists of things like nail scissors and duct tape and bug spray and all the other 5,011 things that will supposedly help us to actually enjoy this experiment in group family camping.

As many of you know, I've been scarred. I was never a big camper to begin with (I like soft pillows and showers too much). Then I went camping with one-year-old twins. Now I get the tremors when anyone mentions the words "Coleman Stove." Seriously, our track record as a family is bad.

But this is supposed to be better. It's all sing-alongs and lifeguarded lakes and cafeteria dining (no Coleman stoves!). And our kids are four now, not one, or three. And we have a cabin and I am bringing down comforters and Christmas lights and a couple of cute throw rugs (I kid you not), so I think we have a chance. I'm counting on it actually. Because, honestly, I really need a vacation. And a little sleep.

I'll be back in a week or so with tales to tell and an exciting announcement. I'll let you know if those nail scissors came in handy. In the meantime may your days be filled with the comforts of modern civilization.

I will miss you. I will

That's Leonard Cohen with his hat in hand too.

For an entirely different reason, I'd imagine.

I come to you with hat in hand. I have no excuses for not writing. No good ones, anyway. I'm just sort of harried and grouchy, rushing around buying gifts and finishing up stories and filling out unemployment forms and playing Wurdle on my iPhone (I've mentioned my new iPhone, right) and trying to work off my gut in time for my 40th (it's not looking good).

But I think about you, I do. Every time my kids say something wonderful I think about you, and every time they are horrible wretches I think about you too. But here's the thing: I need a little vacay. I need to write some fiction and wrap some presents and maybe, just maybe, steal a little guilt-free down time.

from HERE

And then I will be back. I will begin 2010 full of vim and vigor. I'll be a blogging fool.

Until then, I hope you are happy and warm and busy in a good way. I hope you have a chance to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas Special and please, please, whatever you do, don't save all the wrapping until Christmas Eve. Beacause I love you too much to see you hurt yourself like that.

xoxo Samantha