I’m here “camping” with the Hubs and the In-laws. I use quotes because we have an RV which is really just bringing a miniature version of your house into the woods. I think this should really be called “house-ing”. A new friend told me that any kind of camping where you are not roughing it is now called “glamping” (glamorous camping). However, I think glamping is a term that should be reserved for a trip where you are in some proximity to nature but are rich enough to bring your personal trainer, nutritionist and massage therapist.
Meanwhile, the Hubs and I love RV camping.
Because we’re old farts.
If the Hubs reads this, he’ll take exception to the “old farts” reference. That’s cuz he’s 6 years younger than me and too stubborn to admit that he’s a “senior” citizen by joining AARP. He did, however, take the 55+ discount at the movies recently.
Meanwhile, I’m a crone in my glory — old enough to know better and young enough to not give a shit sometimes.
I’ve been sitting on a picnic bench for about half an hour, watching the sun come up over the lake. It has started to rain on me twice but stopped before I really got wet.
It’s a weekday and I’m up early enough that the fishing crowd hasn’t arrived yet.
I hear wind, water, birds.
Oops! It’s really starting to rain now. Gotta go.