The Gift of the Magi

We are, ostensibly, headed out today for one last hurrah this summer.  As I type this, it is almost 6:00 and my husband is not home from work.  This is his subtle way of telling me that he does not want to go camping.  I get it, because I also do not want to go camping.  This is a Gift of the Magi moment for the two of us.  I have been worried about my love this summer and the hits he has taken.  When a climbing buddy suggested we join several other families for a group excursion up to the White Mountains, I pounced on the opportunity for his sake.  As for me, camping for just a week-end is a bit long on the packing end and short on the playing end.  Still, anything to help my grieving spouse.

Imagine my surprise when said spouse said this:  "Why are we doing this?"  And I responded with "because you love to do this and you have had a rugged summer." 

Of course, anyone who has met WCE knows that car camping with a group of 20, with a set agenda and group meals could possibly be considered one of his nine circles of hell.  I heard camping and didn't quite pay attention to all the details.  That is my gift that sometimes goes horribly astray.

As we were putting together the gear of this event, we learned that our active and committed shed mice ruined our stove, our mess kits, and my beloved cooking spice kit.  Consequently, the money we have spent on new gear would easily finance a very nice hotel for the week-end.  Just saying.

Here is the thing.  We are going with great people to a beautiful place.  Our kids have never camped out and they are about to experience the exhilaration of setting up camp in the pitch dark.  After labor day, we are soccer bound on the week-ends until November.  This will be a healing time....if we can just survive tonight.