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Just last week, I blogged a Praying In Color entry.
When I started praying, I had no clue it would end up to be a picture of a canoe camping trip, but subconsciously it must have been on my mind. I know that getting Phil to relax was weighing on me. I’d been trying not to nag him so I’d say, “I’m worried you’re not getting enough rest.”
“Got things to do.”
“They can wait, they’re not as important as your health and you need to rest.”
“When I’m done.”
“You’ll keep adding to your list.”
“What do you want me to do? Things got to get done around here.”
“I want you to at least take Sunday off.”
“How about Sunday afternoon?”
So I compromised for a few weeks. Phil works from seven in the morning until nine or ten at night five days a week. Then on the weekend, he’s out mowing the lawn, fixing the cars, and tending to all of the other mishaps that inevitably happen. We’re Murphy’s red-headed step children. Seriously. Ask people who have seen the chaos in action.
For the last few weeks, I haven’t had to beg Phil to relax, he’s taken to enjoying an entire Sunday off. Except cooking. But cooking is one of those activities that bond and solidify our relationship. I’m his perfect sous chef.
We took a two day float trip last summer on the Tippecanoe River. We camped at Tippecanoe State park. I don’t necessarily enjoy the work-out a canoe trip on a windy weekend gives me, but it melted my heart to see Phil truly relax, fish, and enjoy himself.
He doesn’t do well relaxing at home. I think all of the things to do dangle in front of him and taunt him. I know, they do that to me too, but mothers have the ability to tone out frequencies that are annoying. Sure dads tune out things, but typically if they’ve tuned one thing out they’ve tuned everything out. Moms can tune out the irritating stuff. Tell me I’m wrong!
So we go camping.
I love, love, love campfires. Cooking breakfast over a fire brings out the maternal in me. Who knows why. I don’t care why. I know I’m up at the crack of dawn wrapped up in a flannel shirt, throwing another log on the fire. I get the water boiling for the coffee and sip it while I add bacon to the cast iron skillet. Phil gets up, drinks my (by then) cold coffee and I make another steaming cup for myself. We take turns flipping the bacon and Zane yells from the tent, “I smell bacon!” and we sit by the fire waiting.
So I prayed for some extra money and for Phil’s boss to let him have a weekday off and I planned another float trip for our family. Next year, my goal is for more than one camping trip.
*originally posted August 4, 2008
Last week I was with my grandma during what became her last week here with us. I’m so glad I was with her!
We went camping September 6th. (Here and here) Today is the 23rd and I’m going to show you that my car is (somewhat) clean. Most of the camping laundry is done, I have one huge sleeping bag that has to be taken to the laundry-mat and Lord knows I haven’t had time to do that.
Don’t mind the crumbs and crunchies on the floor.
I cleaned OUT the car, I didn’t clean the car yet.
Other side before:
Yeah, I didn’t take an “other side after” because there was
still stuff on the floorboard. Not much. Two pair of shoes
and some stuff from this past week.
But the front is cleared out.
Camping laundry before:
I didn’t take an after of the laundry. It’s done and packed away.
That’s it for this week folks. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this week, but I’ll Cowboy Up, Soldier On, or lie in bed and pretend I’m sick so I don’t have to face the mountains of work that need to be completed in the next two days (I have a conference this coming Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.)
You can see all of my tackles here.
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Last month’s topic was Recreational Companionship and I posted about our canoe/camping trip last year. It just so happens that Marriage Monday this month came during our now annual camping/canoe trip. This month we’re delving into Why Romance Matters.
Are you kidding me? Along with communication, romance has to be one of the key ingredients to our marriage.
Stop. Get those images of flowers, chocolates, and expensive restaurants out of your head. You’re at MY blog and we play by MY rules here. That is not what romance looks like for us.
I do not want to have my hair done, my nails polished (except my toes,) and I don’t want to wear a dress. Or heels. Or God-forbid, pantyhose. ICK. I don’t want to make reservations, eat at fancy restaurants, or go see movies. I don’t want chocolate (okay, I really do, but not in the romance way that everyone thinks.) And I’ll take my wine in a plastic cup by the campfire.
Webster’s says romance is a love affair. I like that definition. Let me show you
what our love affair looks like.
Sunrises like this. Steaming cup of coffee in hand. Warm fire toasting our knees. Owls hooting, birds singing, raccoons full from getting into things overnight.
The smell of a campfire. All over us. Our hair. Our clothes. Our tent. Knowing that we’ll be cooking something else over the fire and that it will be delicious. Except for the bottoms of the biscuits in the dutch oven–because I burn those every time.
Helping each other.
Romance to us is spending time together, cultivating our family, being together in God’s nature and enjoying things we seem to forget to enjoy when we’re at home with all the stuff, the clutter, the things that need to be done.
We’re back. I kinda wish we weren’t though. I love camping so much.
So no sooner do we get back from one trip and we’re going on another. That’s okay with me though.
We’re going camping as my Mother’s Day present. I wish we camped more often!
Here’s some Missouri pictures I haven’ t blogged about yet.