Wednesday, March 23, 2011
On several weekends.
Of my childhood.
Growing up in Southern California, my parents often took us on jaunts into the amazing mountains of the Sierra Nevada range and into the wilds of Yosemite.
Some of my fondest childhood memories have to do with waking up to the smoky morning air of a campfire and pine trees, snug in my fleece-lined sleeping bag, my mind a bit fuzzy from the high altitude.
So I'm admitting up front that I am a punk.
Because I should be creating the same kind of memories with my kids.
But I am weak.
And I like electricity.
And running water.
And I don't do all that great a job keeping everyone clean and fresh with modern appliances. And am assuming that I would do worse sans appliances. And running water. And electricity.
But I will let my kids set up a tent in the middle of the family room.
Which I am hoping offsets my campin' punkness.