Survival: a term used to describe the continuation of life or existence. Even a famous reality-television program's premise is based upon stranding a group of people in a remote location where they have to fend for food, water, fire and shelter for themselves in order to what? You got it, survive. Some people are natural survivors: those who intuitively know how to extract water from a prickly pear cactus; who know the best kindling to collect for a primo fire; who know how to suck venom out of a snake bite; who can whittle a spear to kill their dinner. Then there are the avid camper types who have all the right (and necessary) gear to make camping a simple adventure, seemingly painless; the ones who set up a tent in 10 minutes, knowing the instructions by faultless memory. Then there are the awkward-looking campers, who don't quite know what they're doing; who, to those natural survivors and avid campers, look slightly out of place, but who are having fun and are up for one big adventure.
Within the hour of arriving at the Colorado Bend State Park campsite, Matt and I knew which category we fell into: the latter! Despite our attempts to look like cool campers, we couldn't attain such a coveted category; as irregular and first-time-together campers, we had no idea what we were doing, but that sure didn't rob us of tons of fun, much laughter, and precious memories...as well as some lessons learned and marital growth spurts. Ha! But I just have to brag on my hubby for a moment: he impressed me so much! Despite my knowing how to rough it in my life, I was the main factor that made us fall into the awkward category: I was useless in setting up the tent, forgot basic things like a trash bag and cooking utensils, and was the impatient one when it was taking too long to set up the tent in the dark without a lantern that I asked Matt repeatedly to buy (but I still shouldn't have been a whiny-like 2 year old!). Matt did amazingly well setting everything up (with the help of his head light); now knows a lantern would be useful <grin>; exhibited a huge amount of forbearance towards me; and was the master griller. 
With ya'lls' help and encouragement, we managed to have a camper's feast, less the s'mores because I'm trying to be super, super good. And believe me, I regretted that decision as we wrapped up our dinner on Saturday night. I begged Matt to go ask some other campers if we could pay them to buy some of their makings for s'mores. I was desperate! But alas, I was good. Crazy, but good.
Driving into the campsite Friday night, we arrived to a panoramic view of the hills with lightning bolts shooting across the sky and blustery wind. To one who is freaked out by lightning, and I mean freaked out, this was not a welcomed greeting. The last thing I wanted to do was send my husband out to the field to set up a tent to be a perfect target for those electric forces to jolt. Already, the safe, cautious non-camper was making her way out of me, ready to turn back towards home, or at least sleep in the car for the night. The storm passed momentarily and we found our prime location by the Colo
rado River (of Texas), which is a full, powerful beauty.
It wasn't a river to take a swim in like I'd imagined, and if Molly had her way, she would have dove in as each and every boat passed by to "rescue" the boaters. She did, however, get the opportunity to swim in the springs that were nearby on our hike. We managed to be the first arrivals there on Saturday morning and had the place to ourselves for a good 30 minutes. The spring water was too cold for us human folk that early in the day, b
ut Molly doggie paddled to her heart's content and used the nearby brush to dry off, which was shear entertainment for us.
We enjoyed a two hour hike along the creeks until the final 30 minutes when it started to become super hot. The biggest trooper out of all of us: Molly! 
She led the way, pulling Matt along the entire time. As we cooled her down with water given to her to drink and poured over her head, she decided it would be a perfect time to become a muddy, filthy dog and rolled in the dirt road. Oh, the simple pleasures of dog life.
The heat almost became unbearable; Matt was on the brink of saying, "Let's call it a trip." We thought we'd be able to relax and read, but the heat was too distracting and shade hard to come by. After a couple of drives in the air conditioned truck, we decided to head back to the springs even though they might be a bit crowded. All three of us enjoyed the refreshing, cool water. 
With that, and the added accountability of my Internet peep friends, we could last another night. Exhausted from the night before because our precious puppy, who is scared of bugs, kept us up throughout much of the night restlessly moving about to escape the nightmare she felt she was in and panting hard enough to power a small boat (little did she know she was protected by the tent--the buzzing noises drove her mad) we accomplished our solution perfectly: to wear her out as much as possible on Saturday so she'd sleep soundly!
As we sat outside eating our scrumptious burgers that night, we noticed how Molly was trying so hard to close her eyes but couldn't bring herself to do it as every 10 seconds she'd whisk her head around to eat a bug. We wore ourselves out as well; Molly and I made our way into the tent where she could finally rest her cute little head and I started drifting away with her at 8 p.m.
Matt gazed at the beauty of the stars while he fell asleep, but I was already out, too incoherent to even remember to put my glasses on to see the twinkle, twinkle little stars. My body alarm went off each morning at 7 a.m., making Matt regret he'd married a morning person. It would have been fun to hike another couple of hours Sunday morning, as it was a beautiful, cool morning, but the blisters on my feet, and Matt's old, rickety knee hindered us from tackling another hike. So we headed home to a nice, warm shower; a comfy bed; a razor; a bug-free (for the most part) zone; clean clothes; and a working phone to call and wish our mommas a "Happy Mother's Day".
I'll go campin' again. Once a year in early spring, I'll go camping again; we had a fun time! But this I know for sure: I don't want to be one of those mothers who was camping on Mother's Day, no sir-ee! Give me a spa day with a facial or a massage instead! Note for next time: take trash bags, a lantern, makings for s'mores, sleeping pads, a brush for Molly, makings for s'mores, more patience, maybe a tarp, cooking utensils, more encouraging words, stainless steel utensils, makings for s'mores, and a bucket for washing cooking supplies...oh, and s'mores. The good news: even the awkward, out of place campers who don't know what they're doing can still survive! Alleluia, I lived to tell about it!
