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Pitch a Tent

I once heard a stand-up comic talking trash on camping. He couldn't understand why people would work hard all year, save up vacation time, put a little money in the bank and then head out to the woods to pretend they were homeless. I still bust a gut everytime I think about that- because it is funny. However, I doubt homeless people have the amount of gear or planning that Shelton and I do. If we buy anything else to go camping with it will have to be tied down to the top of the gas-guzzling beast... and then we'll really look like we're from Kansas.

We headed up to our usual camping spot near Lawrence at Clinton Lake to celebrate Labor Day weekend. Does anyone even know what we're supposed to be celebrating, besides a free day off of work? Adventure awaited us as usual and we fully embraced it- beer in hand sitting in a lawn chair.

We were first greeted by our neighbors- a 40-something WT couple camping by themselves with more gear than the six of us brought. Their tent? I'm quite sure my apartment isn't that spacious and I wouldn't be surprised if it had a basement. What I do know is that it's not sound proof and the bad boy rocks like it's on rails. We were privy to not one but two afternoon delight sessions. They had no shame and God bless them for that.

One of our camping buddies, Wade, was the chef for the first night's dinner. He had brought some aromatic and delicious lemon-rosemary chicken, grilled right on the fire. A little salad, a little wine and what would have been a mean baked potato. They were a little on the well-done side, but we filled them with sour cream and butter nonetheless. The next morning, Wade was in charge of breakfast. We thought he might be performing a magic trick but, oh no, the bacon literally evaporated. After a stint on the fire, we pulled back the foil to see a black outline of what used to be bacon. There was nothing there. So- in case you were wondering- there is a time limit on how long you can cook bacon.

I also attempted a monster feat and can proudly say I succeeded. I baked a cake. In the campfire. The first bite tasted like chewing on a lit cigarette. But once I cut away the edges, the middle was moist and chocolately. We even had frosting with sprinkles.

Along with the usual smores and hot dogs, there were games of badminton, broken flip flops, ticks, good conversation, teradactyl sitings and late nights spent curled by the fire under the stars.

We've already got our next trip planned- next month. With a canadian theme.

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