Musing Aloud

The weekend before our annual Memorial Day camping trip, it was a whopping 103 degrees (that's Farenheit, for you blokes) here in the valley.  We tied a record for a high on that date.  One week later, it was almost exactly half that, and we set a record for a low for that date.  So take 53 degrees at our "normal" elevation, which I honestly haven't a clue what that is, and take it up to about 7000 feet.  And what you get is about 37 degrees.  That's the high.  It didn't get over 40 the whole time we were there and it drizzled off and on for the first two days.  Thank goodness our good buddy has a huge 20x30 foot tarp, and he's a creative and camping-smart type of guy.  They strung that big old tarp between four trees, centering it over the campfire so we could stay warm and dry at the same time.  But we also couldn't move from the campfire cause it was too darn cold to do anything else.  So by the third morning I've had enough.  And then it starts to rain in earnest.  I'm almost in tears I want to go home so bad.  I want a shower.  I'm sick of sitting by the campfire and talking.  I want to go home and watch tv and be warm and surf the internet and write if I want.  So hubby says we'll leave about 4 pm that day, which means in essence that we only miss the last dinner up there, as we would have packed up and gone home the next morning anyway.  And then the rain comes harder and we see snow flurries.  So everyone ends up packing up in the wet cold rain, which means the tent trailer is a muddy mess, as is the inside of the truck and almost everything else.  The snow never stuck on the ground where we were at, but down the road it was, and no one wanted to wake up Monday morning and be stuck in the snow.  I felt guilty because I felt I caused the mass exodus because we were the first to start packing up, but it rained all day yesterday down here in the valley.  I imagine it was ugly as hell up in the mountains.  And I was glad to come home.  So we're home safe and sound and a day early and it doesn't break my heart at all, which is quite unusual for me, as I love camping.  But I don't love cold weather and I hate snow even more. 

This morning we went to see the new Indiana Jones.  The plot was far-fetched, to say the least, but who cares when the action was so much fun!  Harrison Ford looked none the worse for the wear, and the banter was delicious.  It was fun.  Son #2 will be here for dinner soon.  I made a blackberry pie (well yes, of course from scratch!) and there's roast beef in the oven and mashed potatoes and gravy to follow.  Now *that's* what I call fun.  (Ok, not so much the cooking, but anything involving my kids and taking care of them).