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You know.

You learn a lot about yourself when you camp.

Something about limits. Like how tired…how little sleep…how much your back can hurt…how utterly useless the few bushes are between you and your neighbor…how many smoking sticks can be waved in the air before the words that come out are terse. And angry. And then reasonable again. Even kind. Because afterall, you’re camping.

And this is fun.

Or it’s supposed to be.

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I came with the kids to Alder Lake. Just past Eatonville, WA. Twenty-five miles from our driveway.

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We set up the orange hotel on the industrial gravel pad. Which meant that the ultra-skinny blow up thing I planned to sleep under would need to perform a miracle.

Ha.

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But sleep isn’t what this one came for anyway.

He just wanted to wield a match.

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To light his own fire.

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So he could sit back on his heels–proud as a peacock– as it raged beside him.

Raged. Ahem.

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Because this is the life.

Right here.

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Dining on hot dogs we didn’t mean to turn so black.

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Under the mantra that one wouldn’t kill us.

So two probably wouldn’t either.

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It’s about this time that having that second parent around makes sense.

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But Husband isn’t here.

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So we’ll have to tell him in tired, clipped sentences with big gestures how it all went down.

Not that he can’t imagine.

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2 Responses to “Urban Camping–Alder Lake”

  1. Ruth says:

    You are brave! I love camping, but never enough to venture out with children and no husband to cry to in the utter exhaustion that comes with camping…..What wonderful stories your children will have to tell your grandchildren…… 🙂

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