Preface:
My wife, and four children have embarked on an ambitious vacation. We have planned an unplanned trip to see the west coast during the month of June. Like good Sooner's we jumped the gun and left on May 25th. In the weeks leading up to the embarkation, my wife, Chelley, did most of the planning (by this I mean packing). To her credit, she imagined all the sorts of troubles we would encounter and made allowances for said troubles by her selection of goods to accompany us. I told her to pack as little as possible, as we could certainly pick up anything we would need as we went along. This was an impossibility. We have nearly anything you could want or need for a month on the road. For my part, I did the sort of un-flashy, behind the scenes preparations of getting some preventative maintenance done on the car, getting things in place at the office to accommodate such an absence, and the like. This dichotomy, of course, left my dear sweet wife feeling quite alone in her preparations. To complicate matters, I put forth the idea that, while we COULD price line this vacation, getting in a room in whatever next locale caught our glance, it would be more economical should we do a bit of camping along the way. I have done a fair bit of camping. Admittedly, this was entirely in my youth, and thus has a memory which perhaps cannot have any relation to the reality of my grown self. Chelley has done absolutely none. Zero. Until yesterday. Given the idea that we could save some money camping out, and the fact that she was basically agreeable, and had never camped (Ever), I insisted that we first give it a go in the backyard. That way, we could see if it was moderately crazy, as I supposed, or over the top - ridiculous...
The backyard trial run should have been my clue. However, I am a stubborn, stubborn man. Not given to easily conceding a point which clearly I am in the right about. I mean really, what's the big deal? Sleeping in a tent is just like sleeping anywhere else, right? Nope, this is not the case. In the trial run, we had a heavy amount of complaining. The complaints, I admit, were primarily valid. Space was a bit cramped. Even in our tent, which is quite large, sleeping for six bed hogs is pretty challenging. Secondly, it was a rather warm, humid night. Thus, even fully unclothed, which would have been impolite to sink to, we would all have been quite sweaty. On the first complaint, I reasoned, we would get used to bed hogging in unison, and this could be overcome easily. This was essentially true. While not in any sense of the word comfortable, our first real night, in a real campground was not so bad on that count. Sure, we all had our complaints, mine that Shannon had her feet in my face at regular intervals throughout the night. Shannon that someone had their feet in her face, (which is impossible, since there was no one with feet pointing her way). Nonetheless, I failed to grasp the most important obstacle, and that is the fact that my wife has never learned how to sleep. What is a delicate, precociously balanced item at our home, is as if we perched our tent on a tilt-a-whirl at the campground. I won't say much more about it, but there was an insistence that the camping component of our trip, and the needed gear, be returned to our home by United Parcel Service. I'm not currently in the mood to argue the point, as in almost every regard, this has been a lovely vacation so far.
My wife loves to drive. She is an excellent driver. She is uncomfortable riding along when I am driving. This is not a feeling I share. I am just as happy, if not moreso, when I am being driven I like the freedom of being able to engage my hands in whatever they may desire. I like being able to drift off for a short nap from time to time. It has been my experience that this has an unfailingly bad reception when one is driving. However, I'm usually only in trouble with Chelley for sneaking off for a catnap. I am aware, that there is a contingent with whom I seem to be less a man for my acquiescence of my creator given right (and responsibility) to DRIVE THE CAR!!! I don't give a damn. I like to be driven. So, for two days now, my wife has driven us through the panhandle of Oklahoma (which I must say is much longer than I imagined, and windier), into the bowels of Black Mesa nature preserve and state park, and on to New Mexico, and now Colorado. She has done a lovely job. Earlier today I did take the reins for an hour or two, trying to assuage my guilt that she is stuck with all that driving. That was a mistake. She likes to drive. I like to ride. It really is that simple. I think I'll leave it alone now.
For the actual truth of our travels, one should be advised that my wife is blogging about the experience as well. Normally, I would say that you should take the two sides of the story, and find the truest sense in between. But, since I know us both, I'd advise you put more stock in hers.
mommadavison.blogspot.com
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