My goal is to clean my refrigerator. It's time for the science projects to be discarded, and to start fresh for the summer. I figure a long weekend is the perfect time, because I can do this chore on Saturday morning and have the rest of the weekend to shake off the heebie-jeebies I might get from opening some of those plastic tubs.
OK, it isn't quite THAT bad, but I did notice some furry spots on the shredded cheese.
The stream of traffic is well underway out there and I wonder if I am the only person in America who is staying home this holiday weekend? I am a little puzzled by some of the folks driving up. You see it everywhere: these adventurous souls drive for at least a couple of hours to get here. They pack and they plan and dress for the outdoors. Hopefully, they rip the tags off of all their new camping stuff before they set up. And then they camp so close to the highway, they could throw a marshmallow from their campfire to the far side of the road. This is getting away from it all? Seriously, they could run a drive-through s'mores stand and hardly have to get up from their camp chairs. Maybe I'm just unnaturally anti-social, but I don't get it.
When we camp, we CAMP. We eat better in camp than we do at home. We get so far off the beaten path that there is no path. Our camping gear is all well-used and well-loved. Burn holes and everything. Red wine in blue plastic camping cup is a real treat. My hubs makes these grill-baked potatoes that would make you fall on the ground and twitch in ecstasy. Even the dog knows to go way out in the woods to do her business. We just plain know how it's done.
But we ain't doing it. We're staying home. I like people. But not quite that many of them. We're going to landscape and read and I have a truckload of bread to make into bread pudding. I'll probably throw the tennis ball for the dog until I can't lift my arm anymore. I need to fertilize my houseplants. Vacuum. Nap. Barbecue elk steaks. A nice, long, lazy weekend.
What are you doing?