bitten

i went camping a few weekends ago with an old friend (not THAT old friend) in her antique vdub camper, her dog and a married couple, who had their own antique vw van. the dog was well behaved but i can't say the same thing for the married homo sapiens. i won't go into the details, but my goodness if you're gonna go on a camping trip be prepared to socialize a bit and pull out your basic good manners. jeeze, lighten up, folks!

we set up camp, i made the awesome campfire, we had a great dinner and woke up early to hike about 7 miles to a dried out waterfall that was noted in an OC hiking trail book. the directions were nothing like google maps. "when you get to the open area between the bluejay and foxglove campgrounds, veer east and look for the small incline..." i'm amazed we actually found the trail and the waterfall.

on the second night, hours after an awesome bbq dinner, a couple of beers and several perfectly roasted marshmallows, i woke from a sound sleep with the nagging feeling of needing to ....well, pee. i didn't want to walk all the way to the bathrooms (which were horrifically stinky), so i thought i'd be a 'real' camp gal and just do it in the woods. well, let's just say i need some practice before i get that perfect. the moon was full (stop it. i'm talking about the real moon) but not bright enough to illuminate the big angry ass biting ant hill where i chose to give back to mother earth.

i now completely understand the phrase ants in the pants. oy.