The Race Home

Saturday morning marked our last few hours of Disney magic.  We woke up, packed up and went to put things in the car for the long drive home.  Hubby pointed out that it was a little sad going past Bestie and C's room, knowing they weren't there anymore, and I had to agree.  After one last sweep of the room, we closed the door behind us for the last time and headed for the car.  I finally broke down crying.

"We'll be back, hon..."

"I know.  It's not even that.  I'm just gonna miss [Bestie] so much.  I didn't realize just how much I missed her..."

I managed to stop crying long enough to get in the car and head to the resort's food court for breakfast (yay for Mickey waffles!).  After a brief stop at the gift shop (where I got my Haunted Mansion pins that Hubby had promised I could get), it was goodbye Disney, hello 20+ hours of driving!

We hadn't decided yet if we were going to stop somewhere for the night or just drive through.  On the one hand, sleep is good and we knew we'd be tired at some point.  On the other hand, if we weren't home by noon on Sunday to pick up the puppers, we wouldn't be able to get her until Monday!  It was a conundrum for sure.

Hubby drove the first couple hours, and then handed the wheel off to me so he could get a nap and do some of the later driving.  Unfortunately, this resulted in me driving through Atlanta, which was not on my list of things I wanted to do.  It wasn't actually terrible, but we did hit some traffic, and in a stick, stop-and-go is never fun.  

The one thing we had to look forward to was the Marietta Diner.  We had decided that we wanted to try to stop at a restaurant along our trip that had been on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives.  Lo and behold, the Marietta Diner was along our route, so we made it a plan.  The place was packed when we pulled in, but the wait only ended up being about 20 minutes.  The worst part of the wait, I'm sad to say, wasn't that I had to pee or that I was so hungry I thought my stomach was eating itself.  Nope, the worst part was the Girl Scouts.  

I hate to admit that, because I am a Girl Scout!  But these girls were nuts.  They were Brownies (those brown sashes give it away every time), so they were younger girls, and they were selling cookies outside the diner.  When we approached the door, one of the little girls drawled, "Wanna buy some Girl Scout cookies?"  We politely declined and went to stand around and wait.  A second girl came and asked us, "Wanna buy some cookies?" and again, we declined.  At that point, I noticed that one of the girls was opening the door to the restaurant, jumping onto it, and riding it as it closed, all the while yelling, "Girl Scout cookies!  Get some Girl Scout cookies!"  The rest of the girls were running up and down the crowd, trying to peddle those damn cookies to anyone they could find.

I have respect for Girl Scouts doing booth sales, I really do, but these girls didn't make me want to buy cookies.  They made me glad I didn't have children.  They made me seriously happy when our name was called.  But they did not make me want to help them out.  

Anywhoozles, Marietta Diner has one of the biggest menus I've ever seen, and picking something for dinner was way more difficult than I had anticipated.  I ultimately chose a chicken parmigiana sub, which was delicious, but I only ate about half because the real thing I was after was dessert.  Marietta Diner has desserts up the wazoo.  For real, it's nuts!  We had a HUGE slice of peanut butter chocolate pie (with Reese's on it, of course) that we couldn't even finish between the two of us!  We had noticed everyone who left had a bag with leftovers, and we were no exception.  

It was at that point that we really decided that we were going for it: we were going to drive straight through the night.  We took turns driving and had to stop at a few rest areas to get out and wake up a bit, but eventually we made it.  We got to the place Maxi was being boarded around 7 AM, but they didn't open until 9.  We headed home to take a two hour nap before we went back to pick her up.

As long as the drive was, it was worth it when we got to see our puppers again.  We had missed her something awful, and I'm sure she missed us, too.  Vacation was over, and soon it would be back to work and school and all that reality bullshit, but there's something satisfying about being home again and sleeping in your own bed that somehow makes it OK. 

Oh, and my favorite part?  Cheshire Cat made it all the way from Disney back home.  He's one hell of a cat!

My Love/Hate Relationship With Camping

Having gone camping this weekend, camping is on my mind.  It wasn't a great trip, sadly.  We got the tent up just before it began to rain and then took a drive to wait it out.  The rest of the afternoon was great.  We had blue skies and made a lovely fire (over which we made pizza pudgie pies...  NOM!).  But just as we were finishing dinner, it started to rain again.  That was around 8 or 8:30.  It rained on and off for the rest of the night.  Every time we thought it had stopped, we'd hop out of the car and sit by the fire for a minute before getting hammered again.

Around 2 AM, we got woken up (OK, Zach got woken up; I hadn't fallen asleep yet) by a park ranger because bad storms were coming our way.  We got to spend about 30 minutes in the men's bathroom with 6 other adults, two dogs (Maxi was one) and twin 3-month-olds (who were, thankfully, pretty quiet at that point).  After we got the OK to head back to camp, I just read until I was so tired I physically couldn't stay awake.  Even then, I couldn't get comfortable.  Ugh.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but no.  To put it nicely, I didn't grow up in a camping family.  (Actually, that's a hell of an understatement, but we'll go with it for now.)  My mom's idea of 'roughing it' when I was growing up was a motel without cable (which has since been upgraded to a hotel without room service).  Sure, Mom used to go "camping" with me as a Girl Scout, but only when it involved sleeping indoors on a mattress or bed.  The one time I went camping with my dad (for a Father's Day outing), the two of us slept in a tent so big it had room for two separate cots AND a generator so we could have a fan at night. Being slightly more outdoorsy, Dad and I actually went canoeing in the morning (because my parents owned a canoe, though I still don't know why, since that's the only time it has been used in my lifetime).

I had my first tent experience when I was about 6.  I had been going to a day camp with a few other Girl Scouts and on the last night, we got to stay over in the field next to the Girl Scout office.  I quickly learned two things.  The first is that spiders love tents, which made me terrified of the tent itself (after someone took all the visible spiders off, I was able to go into the tent, but didn't get out again until time for breakfast).  The second was that sleeping on the ground really isn't very comfortable.  I did a lot of similar day camps, but as I got older, I realized that as a Program Aid (the girls too old for the camp who were just there to lead activities) you got to sleep inside.  Since I loved the day part of day camp, it was natural for me to head in that direction.

In sixth grade, our class took a winter camping trip in February.  The things we did during the day were great; we learned to make a fire without matches and attempted to build a snow cave (though there wasn't enough snow on the ground).  The first night, I was crazy enough to actually sleep in a tent (though, instead of being on the ground, it was on a platform).  The second night I slept inside, but it was too late and I wound up sick.  It was definitely an interesting experience, but not one I'm rushing to repeat (though, the lack of spiders does make it mildly appealing).

Eventually, my mom decided I would like being a camp counselor and got me signed up for a 3-week counselor-in-training program.  Since I enjoyed being a PA so much, I should love this!  

I didn't.

I was the most homesick 15-year-old you could possibly have imagined.  I cried myself to sleep every night and wrote letters home asking Mom and Dad to come get me.  I actually got to call my parents, something that very few campers are allowed to do unless there's an emergency.  I was dead set on going home.  And then something changed.  I had made friends and was learning to enjoy camping (platform tents ftw).  I ended up staying the full 3 weeks and, much to everyone's surprise, I came back the next summer for the 4-week follow up.  

I wound up working at that camp for 4 summers.  Those summers had some of the best and worst experiences of my life and I wouldn't trade them for anything.  I made some amazing friends, had some amazing times, and (hopefully) made camp a fun place for my campers.

So while I absolutely hate rainy weather, sleeping on the uneven ground, spiders and other bugs, I also love the fresh air, the smell of trees and dirt, cooking over a fire and spending time with my hubby or good friends.  It's the biggest love/hate relationship in my life, and I can't wait to do it again in the fall.  :-)