The extended family is supposed to go camping tomorrow. Meanwhile, the extended weather forecast says the temperature tomorrow night will be somewhere in the mid-thirties.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY EXTENDED FAMILY?
Do they not realize we have houses? With central heat? And wine glasses with stems?
Why is no one canceling this camping trip? Have they no central nervous systems?
This whole situation reminds me of our sixth grade class trip to Nantucket (private school, what can I say) where we stayed in an old (totally haunted) hotel in the off-season (I believe it was March, and March in Nantucket is HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE for rich people, hence the discounted rates). I am telling you, we froze our ASSES OFF on that trip. The hotel had no heat and no linens, so we slept in sleeping bags on top of our beds, and every night we climbed into our sleeping bags wearing Every Single Piece of Clothing We Had Packed in Our Duffels. Every single piece. Long Johns under sweatpants under corduroy pants with five pairs of socks, three turtlenecks, a Henley, a yellow and gray rugby shirt I stole from my Dad, a hat, mittens, and a winter coat. And every night I would chatter myself to sleep like a giant set of teeth. I had never been that cold before, and I haven't been that cold since.
UNTIL NOW.
Right now, it is snowing in my heart.
Now let's get one thing straight. I'm not one of those "Eeeeew, camping. Gross." kind of girls. I'm down with camping. Camping is cool. But when camping is THIS COOL ...
Anyway, to my point. The reason I will not back down from this venture:
My grandmother is going.
Do you smell what I'm cooking here?
The woman is EIGHTY YEARS OLD.
Eighty.
Eight-Zero.
And is she bitching about the weather? No. She is not.
Is she frightened by a little frost bite? Hell to the no.
Does she mind creeping through the icy black night in her sensible shoes to sit on a freezing cold public campground toilet? Probably. She isn't senile, after all. But she isn't whining.
So how pathetic do I look like if I decide that the O'Briens are too delicate a family of flowers to spend one chilly night in the wilderness?
(I'm asking you to tell me. On a scale of one to ten. Ten being "Highly Pathetic." Your opinion matters.)
WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY EXTENDED FAMILY?
Do they not realize we have houses? With central heat? And wine glasses with stems?
Why is no one canceling this camping trip? Have they no central nervous systems?
This whole situation reminds me of our sixth grade class trip to Nantucket (private school, what can I say) where we stayed in an old (totally haunted) hotel in the off-season (I believe it was March, and March in Nantucket is HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE for rich people, hence the discounted rates). I am telling you, we froze our ASSES OFF on that trip. The hotel had no heat and no linens, so we slept in sleeping bags on top of our beds, and every night we climbed into our sleeping bags wearing Every Single Piece of Clothing We Had Packed in Our Duffels. Every single piece. Long Johns under sweatpants under corduroy pants with five pairs of socks, three turtlenecks, a Henley, a yellow and gray rugby shirt I stole from my Dad, a hat, mittens, and a winter coat. And every night I would chatter myself to sleep like a giant set of teeth. I had never been that cold before, and I haven't been that cold since.
UNTIL NOW.
Right now, it is snowing in my heart.
Now let's get one thing straight. I'm not one of those "Eeeeew, camping. Gross." kind of girls. I'm down with camping. Camping is cool. But when camping is THIS COOL ...
Anyway, to my point. The reason I will not back down from this venture:
My grandmother is going.
Do you smell what I'm cooking here?
The woman is EIGHTY YEARS OLD.
Eighty.
Eight-Zero.
And is she bitching about the weather? No. She is not.
Is she frightened by a little frost bite? Hell to the no.
Does she mind creeping through the icy black night in her sensible shoes to sit on a freezing cold public campground toilet? Probably. She isn't senile, after all. But she isn't whining.
So how pathetic do I look like if I decide that the O'Briens are too delicate a family of flowers to spend one chilly night in the wilderness?
(I'm asking you to tell me. On a scale of one to ten. Ten being "Highly Pathetic." Your opinion matters.)
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