The Good Wife and the Wilderness

It was a dark and stormy night. A group of beautiful teenage girls and their boyfriends with mullets went to camp at the river to drink and smoke pot.
"What was that noise?", said the large breasted blond.
"I'm not sure, but we should probably strip down to our underwear and check it out," said her sexy brunette friend.

Sound familiar? If you have ever watched any Friday the 13th movie, it should sound down right normal. I am a horror movie aficionado. I love the feeling of being deliciously scared and waiting to see what comes next. However, this particular genre of films is exactly where my fear of the great outdoors stems from. I realize that this is fairly irrational. Guys in hockey masks don't really patrol camp sites waiting for a young couple to come by to slaughter them. I am fully aware that guys in hockey masks generally just play hockey.

As I'm getting older, I'm trying to push past some of my more irrational fears and conquer them. So when my husband asked if I would go camping with him for Father's Day, I gladly obliged. I got him a tent (more like a house, it sleeps 8) and an air mattress. I was shockingly excited. I thought it would be fun to leave behind the make-up, styled hair, and general cleanliness that comes with being indoors. I imagined us canoeing down the peaceful river, building a fire and cooking hot dogs, snuggling in the hammock, then going in our tent and making love under the stars, then we would wake up and watch the deer drink from the river and a crane catching fish. That's not how camping works. I know that now.

Miles kind of told me late in the week that we would go camping on Saturday. We had miraculously gotten a babysitter without my knowledge and all the plans for the very private camp site were set. Excellent! Almost. Saturday morning our babysitter was MIA. Finally, when she showed up an hour late, we were able to leave. I should have known that the trip was jinxed when we were packing beer in the cooler and I dropped a case of water and broke a beer. Strike one.

After finally getting to the camp site and starting to set up the tent, we realized that we had left the stakes for the tent at home. Strike two. We convinced my mother to get the stakes and meet us halfway with them. Thanks, mom! Since we had already unpacked everything for our camp, someone had to stay to guard everything. Since I didn't know my way around the area, I was the guard. Miles leaves me alone with a cooler of beer, a tent that we can't get to stand up, and a hatchet (in case there were intruders.) Good thinking, honey. Leave the drunk girl with the hatchet. I've seen that movie. It doesn't end well. I should probably add here that I am unnaturally incapable of squatting to go pee. I'm not sure why, but it almost never ends well. This trip was no different. To spare you all the details, just keep that in mind the entire time you read this. Strike three, I should have known to just go home.

Things finally got set up at camp and it was time to canoe. It was a beautiful day and nice on the river. We were moving fast enough for a breeze, I was tanning and drinking an icy cold beer, listening to music, and talking and joking with Miles. Things were looking up. Then it hit us. When I say "it," I mean a fifteen foot tall tree that had fallen underwater. When I say "hit us," I mean the damn tree came out of nowhere and we ran into it (going at a lightening fast canoe speed), and flipped. Oh, the humanity! We had put all valuables into a dry bag, which we later found out did not live up it's name. The beer spilled, we lost ice, Miles lost his shirt, I struggled to breathe, swim, and corral our belongings into the now water filled canoe. The current was pushing me and I couldn't touch the bottom to hold on. I tried to hold the boat and our dry bag out of the water, but I was slipping! I tried to hang on to the tree that attacked us but it was slimy and covered in river weeds. Finally, we swam to safety and managed to dump the water out. We only had about half a mile to go before we were at base camp. Miles then realized that the only phone we brought with us had been soaked (in the dry bag, no less) and was no longer working. Excellent. I've also seen this movie. It does not end well either.

Back to camp! Building a fire is an interesting process. It's a mix of physics and geometry to lay the wood in a proper shape to burn to its fullest ability. I decided we should also split our logs to expose the raw inner wood to burn faster. Drunk ideas are the best! Wilderness Lacy takes the aforementioned hatchet and hammer, and impressed Miles by using the hatchet as a wedge while hitting it with the hammer. Fantastic idea, Wilderness Lacy! The massive blister that I acquired while doing this was not so fantastic, though. I also learned that bug spray doesn't so much repel the bugs as much as it just traps them in sticky goo on your body.

Now, I should say the very private camp site was lent to us by a friend of my husband's. It was on a half acre or so of nice flat land. The camp ground was a half acre. The rest of the property totalled about two-thousand acres all planted with corn. Evidently, the friend of my husband's forgot to tell anyone that we would be coming down to camp. So, they patrolled almost constantly. Without giving details of my love life, I'll just say that there was a moment that they patrolled and we were undressed outside of the tent. When I saw headlights, I ran. I truly was not aware that I could run that fast.

So, we forgot blankets and pillows. Outstanding. I tried to sleep on our duffel bag and that was about as comfortable as sleeping on bricks covered in porcupines. I also kept hearing noises. I was very tempted to strip down to my underwear and investigate, but I restrained myself somehow. It was quite unnerving that our only means of communication to the outside world was not working. I dozed on and off but I wasn't resting well. Perhaps, it was due to the fact that I was freezing since there was no blanket. Around three in the morning, I went to the car to turn on the heat and try to sleep there. Unfortunately, I was unaware that our car had been taken over by a colony of flies and it was obviously time for them to fight and fly uncontrollably. I tried to shoo them out but they pretty much looked at me and laughed. I talked trash to them and berated them, telling them they would never be anything except a stupid fly. Harsh words.

By this time, it was sunrise and I still hadn't slept. I got out of the car and went to the hammock. I thought surely that since the sun was out the area would warm up. No. No, it did not. Well, I'm obviously awake now and there is no hope for sleeping so I went to pee. As I was relieving myself, I saw a crane at the river and was watching the weird big-ass bird when, from the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Someone was canoeing at sunrise and I was peeing for all the group to see. Good morning fellow outdoorsmen!

Miles wakes up and we pack up camp. I have a migraine at this point. Partially from lack of sleep and partially because marital relations often end up very violent on an air mattress. I'm sticky, sweaty, smelly, nauseated, and flat-out exhausted. I'm ready to go.

Did I have a good time? Actually, yes. Maybe it's a little masochistic, but it was fun stepping out of my normal routine. I feel a lot closer to Miles now. He saw me in a way that not even I have seen. Completely natural, and he still thought I was beautiful.

Will I do it again? Well, there were no guys in hockey masks terrorizing us or large breasted females screaming, so that was a plus. I learned a lot of things and had many new experiences. As I sit here typing, I'm exhausted, bruised, blistered, bandaged, sore, filthy from my head to my toes...and happy. Yes, I can't wait to go again.

Happy Father's Day, Miles!!