confessions

Ahoy,

I'll be the first to admit I'm not the biggest fan of camping. Amongst my group of friends this statement is probably something that will elicit gasps and abrupt clutching of pearls. I've been camping. My first experience camping was in college at Big Sur. Yes, it was fun. Yes, nature is magical and majestic and magnificent. And I've been camping at Black Mountain this other time when the RRS's friends brought extra equipment for us to use because we pretty much have none. But I thoroughly feel like I don't need to stay overnight outside if I don't have to. Call me a city girl. I'm not ashamed.

It's not sleeping on the ground, it's not night-time or day-time forest critters, it's not having to cook outside. Those things I can get over. But you see, I like going to bed clean and fresh. I like showering daily. Call me a clean freak, but I know you know you like to be clean and fresh too. Living outside is a novel experience, but I'll stop at that. It's something I'm glad to have checked off my list of life experiences, but it's not something I'm eager to continue checking. I'll do it if I have to, and I won't complain, but you're going to have to take me to a Backstreet Boys concert in exchange.

woodsily warned,
jt