Aug 3, 2009
Notes From Camping, Part One-dee Million
You are looking at Bossy’s view from a shady picnic bench which overlooks the camp office which overlooks Lake Champlain which overlooks a line of mountains whose job it is to interfere with Bossy’s internet service. Or at least that’s how it feels to Bossy, who has spent more time today knocked offline than on — but who is Bossy to complain except a lowly blogger who used to poke fun at people who need vacation connectivity.
So here’s the story in a nutshell, emphasis on nut and the straightjacket with Bossy’s name embroidered on the lapel: Bossy is camping in Vermont.
This year Bossy could not secure a pop-up trailer sponsorship, and so Bossy and her husband rented a pop-up trailer even though Bossy was all, “What if the last person to use it parked the thing under a Ginkgo tree?” And to make matters more unsettling, Bossy’s Honda can’t tow the weight of a pop-up trailer and the family bikes and the family booze and the family, and so the pop-up trailer needed to be rented from a location close to the campground so they could deliver it.
The problem with this plan was that the delivery of the unit would happen while Bossy was still driving driving driving to Vermont, which meant putting someone else in charge of the placement of the pop-up trailer on the site, a notion that was giving Bossy and her husband fits, where Bossy and her husband equals OK really it was just Bossy.
And so Bossy and her family arrived at the campground and the first thing Bossy noticed were huge ruts no doubt made by a behemoth mobile home that was situated on Bossy’s site prior to the delivery of the pop-up trailer.
Bossy knows it’s difficult for you to see the magnitude of the ruts from the above photo, just like it was difficult for Bossy’s husband to see the magnitude of the ruts while standing there staring at them, but trust Bossy: they were deep and annoying.
And so Bossy went about collecting photographic evidence to be used in the eventual divorce proceedings:
Here Bossy sits an entire gas can into one of the ruts. An. Entire. Gas. Can. See?
But that wasn’t the only problem. The main issue was that the pop-up trailer wasn’t positioned in the right spot, and therefore allowed no grace between the canopy of the trailer and the screen house and yes Bossy just used the word grace associated with sleeping outside and pooing in a communal bathhouse.
The problem was that Bossy’s pop-up had been plunked down in the very rear of the campsite:
And so Bossy’s husband decided to move the pop-up trailer, and when Bossy says Bossy’s husband decided really she means Bossy decided for him.
The pop-up trailer’s chain was hooked to the Honda’s something or other and it was Bossy’s job to jump into the driver’s seat and delicately inch the trailer forward while her husband shouted orders Bossy couldn’t hear because she was too busy applying lipstick.
The plan eventually worked, and they managed to reposition the pop-up trailer without dropping the Honda’s transmission into one of the tire ruts, and all was peaceful at Camp Bossy.
Finally, before resuming today’s camping adventure, Bossy would like to thank all of the participators in her latest Match Game giveaway, and to announce the winner of the pile o’ swag crap: congratulations to KM!
If Bossy’s Husband REALLY doesn’t see those ruts, I may have a heart attack.
I would trip and fall and die on those.
Vacation: I do not think that word means what you think it means…
Poor Bossy’s Husband
Seems Bossy has a little problem with ruts. Maybe next time you could try a concrete pad.
I can’t see the electrical connection for the microwave anywhere. How were you supposed to make the Hot Pockets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?
I just can’t believe it. I have never won anything in my life:)
Now I’ve won a pile o swag crap….It’s just……I’m….I’m…overwhelmed….
–>Since you probably don’t have red caution cones for those ruts, how about using empty wine bottles?
http://www.WebSavyMom.com
Didn’t it rain last year when you camped?
As Scooby would say, “Rut-ro!”
Small swimming holes! That’s all they are.
I would be having far more conniptions about the unevenness of the floor of the trailer, as evidenced by BH standing straight and camper tilting behind him, so I’d have to decide whether feet or head sleeps higher.
To expand on HokieDeb’s concept: wine bottles in the bottom of the rut, AND wine bottles on the much higher surface next to them so we can see the actual depth. Or, drink so the top of the remaining wine in the bottle (red so it shows) is at the height of the normal ground level. “Oh my god, Merle! that rut is a half a wine-bottle deep!!!”
No-no-no, those holes are for oatmeal and everything else you burn while trying to cook in caveman conditions.
Or, I do.
Whoa, wait a minute. This is called camping? This is how me and the Little Woman live every day. I can’t wait to tell her we’re camping. It might it seem all so much more romantic. Happy Campers.
Now on rain. Audubon Ron really believes Bossy is a fern. She spends too much time of her life in the rain.
if you knew bossy like I know bossy…
HEY…… I think you do. Killed me laughing…..
this is SOOOO bossy vaca.
okay, bossy, i FEEL you. i laughed about those ruts until you showed the RUT PUDDLES…jeannie would have been as bossy as Bossy herself about that campsite. jeannie also would have been applying lipstick like Bossy… priorities. even while camping. no. ESPECIALLY while camping.
Hey Bossy! Ruts — Oh Foosh! We could have made those (except for the fact that we haven’t been in Vermont since about nine years ago).
Enjoy your vacation. Come camping out west some time.
Sallie
Bossy should join her daughter on a nice long relaxing bike ride around the lake….then she should open up a bottle of wine, sit around the campfire, drink the wine and relax.
I agree with Reeb. I was wondering why the earth looked a little crooked. Thank you Bossy, for giving me more ammunition as to Why I Will Not Go Camping. Unless it’s in a behemoth moblile home.
I agree with Reeb. I was wondering why the earth looked a little crooked. Thank you Bossy, for giving me more ammunition as to Why I Will Not Go Camping. Unless it’s in a behemoth mobile home.
Where’s Stella? Perhaps at Doggie camp, weaving some pot holders and making lanyards?
Bossy, I get you; it’s campsite feng shui. I do the same thing at the beach, at outdoor concerts, tailgates. Really anywhere that requires a faux living room set up.
Bossy’s husband may be a saint. So is my husband. But really? They knew what they were getting into when they married us. People think it’s easy being this anal??
I want to see Stella’s pot holders and lanyards when she’s home from camp.
Very good, Holly!
Hey, the blog isn’t named “iameasy.com” for a reason. I understand you Bossy. I do. Bugs. Scary tall grass. Puddles. Or worse:Puddles in the scary tall grass filled with bugs! Gross. Feng Shui away. (I hope you can’t smell the cow poop from your bucolic campsite.) By the way, cocktail hour helps. Sip and enjoy the scenic vista …aka those pesky mountains interfering with your internet.
I thought you left suburbia to get out of your rut and here you are camping in a new one . . .
I think my new favorite bossyisms are “delivered pop-up camper” and “in charge of placement.” Awesome!
At least Bossy’s daughter is brave enough to come withint a one-mile radius of the campsite set-up process. My kids know that until the initial, inevitable breakdown/meltdown of their mother occurs they have to be gone away; far, far away.
This initial, inevitable breakdown may be caused by one or more–or al– of the following: ant infestations in the camper which hasn’t been opened in over a year; improper placement of the hammock which nobody will lie in except me when I get so angry at something going on inside the camper that I sleep outside in it only to be eaten alive by mosquitoes right before I come down with malaria; improper placement of the camper which makes awning brush too closely against tree; it’s too hot; it’s more humid than africa; i need a bath and the only bath is a shower that I will share with seven thousand fellow campers who all have diptheria and/or swine flu and they’re wiping their germs all over the knobs to the shower and I see these germ clusters clinging to the musty old shower curtain; oh no, we’ve got to get this damn thing set up my way before that thunderstorm rolls in and blows us all to Utah; why do I have to do everything myself; why don’t you all see how important it is to put things up my way; dear god when will I ever learn how stressful camping is?.
Bossy. I so feel your pain. Bottom’s up, and let’s hope that’s a wine glass being tossed up, and not the family going ass over tea kettle when that storm knocks the camper over due to improper placement/leveling in the canyons left by the previous vacationers.
The End.
Bossy camps like I do. I think we would have fun camping together, Bossy. Where “camping together” equals=five start hotel.
Because i hate ruts, bugs, scary grass and I always apply lipstick when camping. Since I was 16.
Oh Bossy! I laughed out loud at least 5 times during this camping post. I would feel the same way about those ruts and icky grass and, well, all things camping. Fight the good fight!
As a relatively new acolyte of Bossy’s, I am still, if you’ll pardon the expression, folding and moulding my overall impression.
I’m thinking now that Bossy is a Suite-at-the-Nearest-Four-Seasons kind of girl as opposed to pop-up-tent-in-a-rutting-meadow honey.
Am I getting warm?
Chesapeake Bay Woman, you made me laugh. As you hijacked Bossy’s blog for several inches there…
(which I totally enjoyed)
I’m just happy to know I’m not the only person alive who realizes that wearing lipstick while camping is an absolute must.
yes, the rainup here last night was a doozy—surprised you guys didn’t just float away…:)
B: “…but you know I wont be able to really relax and enjoy this vacation until those HUGE ruts are filled in and smoothed over and lush with native Vemont grass. Can you just handle this please?”
BH: “I don’t know babe…there’s not much I can do. We’re in the middle of a state park. There’s no nurseries or garden centers or Home Depot or much much of anything to work with.”
B: “!!!!!!”
BH: “OK, OK, calm down. Maybe I can use the corkscrew to hack out a few divots of that tall scary grass waaaay back there at the back of the camp site and sort of fill ‘em in. Im pretty sure they the ruts will be be just fine by the end of the summer.”
B: “!!!! Dont @#%&* with my corckscrew, mister man. I want those ruts smooth as Kefir by the time I get back from the communal poo house”
Later that day…
BD: “Cool! All those tire ruts B was so torqued about have all been filled in. Kind of lumpy though; B’s not going to like the look of that… I wonder where B is anyway? Her laptop is still here and so’s her lipstick. Is that a fingernail?That’s weird. And what’s this lug wrench doing out on the picnic table all covered with… what IS that? Hamburger?”
The placement of the tent or trailer EQUALS either happiness or grief in camping so I applaud you. You are braver and more mature than I am because I honestly don’t know how one copes with ruts those size. God speed dear one.
Serves you right for camping in the first place.
We’re going camping next week, and now I’m all worried about ruts.
Bossy can take Chesapeake Bay Woman at her word because Grandma J experienced first hand what it’s like to go camping with CBW at Blogfest in Mathews, VA.
Oh wait….Chesapeake Bay Woman gave Grandma J her master suite, while CBW slept in her very own pop-up trailer right on the Bay along with several other vagabond attendees with campers.
And because they are all too familiar with the inevitable breakdown/meltdown of their mother during this process, the CB children high-tailed it all the way to the Jersey shore….giggling.
Oh, boy, I experienced that melt-down with you. For a minute I thought that last picture was some kind of camper “port a potty”….
And Chesapeake Bay Woman? I think we were separated at birth. Just a “casual” question…have you ever experienced head lice…repeatedly over a particular summer? Like when the family thought you were really crazy/mean/obsessive? Like when you thought that even though you would ordinarily never consider murder/suicide, this just might be the one situation that sends you over the edge? Or at least threaten the husband with “Fine, I’m moving to a hotel. YOU deal with it.”? OK, I’m going to breathe deeply now and let those memories float away…far away.
And to return to camping. I grew up in upstate NY, but we never went camping. My husband convinced me to do it once. Yup, once was all it took to vow “Never again.”
Bossy, I love reading your blog, and I’m sorry that the first time I comment it’s to have a therapy session.
Sylvia from Queens
Once upon a time my husband and I owned a pop-up and we weren’t very good at backing it into the site, so we quickly realized before we had to turn around and go home that we could unhook the sucker and just push it where we wanted it. Of course, those ruts might have been a problem. Oh by the way, I still have that pop-up and he has passed on. Want to buy it? It’s poverty level price.
Hi. I have a blog at http://www.picturecamping.com where I feature people’s posts about camping, and I would like to send my readers your way. Of course I would give you credit for quotes and would link back to your site.
Thanks for considering this,
Jean B. in SC
Your MacBook Pro Lover is purdy.
That is all.
Ummmm, Bossy…. did you paint that red gas can green? Also, it did not rain, we washed the park for you.
I am glad however that you have not mentioned the tree chickens or else everyone would want to be here!
I can’t believe you didn’t die from allergies sleeping in a pop up trailer. I had the weird idea that we should buy a rv trailer and then that led to having to buy a biggo pickup to pull the trailer…and after thinking of a better use of $50,000 that idea just faded away. Pluse ours would really and truly have to be a closed in one with a/c….sort of like being home without the real comfort of our bed and large screen tv. Just sharing.