Squirrel Legs

We went camping recently with Danny's family to celebrate his birthday. The day before we left a cold front moved into Tucson and the previously beautiful weather became cold and windy, and by the time we got to Show Low there was 13 inches of snow the ground. I refuse to camp in snow. I have camped in rain, wind, on rocks, surrounded by cows that sound like bears in the middle of the night, and in a tent with my mother who insisted on peeing into a pot instead of going outside in the middle of the night. I will not camp in snow. So I stated, vociferously, that I. Would. Not. Camp. In. Snow. Instead? We smuggled 13 people and two dogs into two second floor hotel rooms. I stayed in the room and would hurl my body on top of Hiccup whenever anyone entered the room in order to prevent him from barking. As it was, I'm sure several people caught the glimpse of a long german shepherd nose peeking into the hallway and myself suspended, Matrix-style, in the air above a furious pomeranian preparing to defend his room. Danny was smart and stayed next door drinking tequila with his family.

However by the next day the sun came out and we headed to the mountains. The next two days were filled with fish, camp fires, and cheese poofs. Oh, the cheese poofs. Every road trip we take, I have to buy a bag of delicious cheese poofs to consume on the ride. This year Danny purchased the largest quantity of cheese poofs I have ever seen at Sam's Club. We calculated that I could eat only cheese poofs for three whole days and STILL be consuming enough calories to make me obese. It was heaven. Unfortunately, people began competing for the cheese poofs, especially when we started playing "pass the bottle of tequila around the fire" (It's a complicated game. You drink tequila and pass the bottle. Then you end up lying half inside your tent threatening your dog that you'll "break his little squirrel legs" if he doesn't stop walking on your face). By the end of the weekend, people were deliberately consuming my cheese poofs to annoy me. At least, until the pug from the campsite next door came over and peed on the canister. Then they were all mine! On the last day we began duct-taping small, eager children to trees to "test their survival skills". Their revenge? Duct-taping the cheesy poofs. Oh, the horror.

The weekend was a lovely escape from the never ending renovations, despite the fact that my hair still smells of smoke even though it's been a week.