Friday, August 21, 2009
not a camper
weekword pushed me into a corner this time! i have no choice but to confess that i am not a camper. it wasn't always this way. i loved to camp as a kid - this was the only time i got to eat cereal out of those cool mini boxes - and i have a great memory of the time my dad carted us to upper michigan for a week, only to find that upon setting up our nuclear orange tent in the middle of nowhere that my brother had no extra underwear. with my dad cursing at my mom (who had wisely stayed home) under his breath (no cell phones in those days), we got back in the car and headed over the canadian border to the nearest store, where there were no tighty-whities in his size, only blue. after a long line at customs with nothing to declare but blue briefs, we made it back to the campsite just in time for dinner. my dad set up his portable coleman stove, pulled out the frying pan and took off the lid, and of course, there was the missing underwear that my mother had carefully and thoughtfully packed for the entire week.
anyway, with time i became increasingly ill at ease at braving the elements overnight. the last time i got suckered into camping was when i was a graduate student in arizona. i spent one very long sleepless night somewhere near show low, waiting for those exotic desert beasts howling in the distance to find me for dinner. after grad school i started traveling full time for work, and discovered that i preferred to camp indoors, W Hotel-style...
if you're in the mood for some good weekend reading, check out the great feature of orly's one artist journal in the new issue of artful blogging and thereza's thoughtfully written post on copyright considerations. happy friday!