Why I Don't Camp

I don't camp.  I loathe the very idea of camping.  Camping, for me, includes any instance where one sleeps in anything called a tent, camper, trailer, R.V., pop-up, pull-along or whatever name.  I do not consider it "camping" if I am in a cabin that includes: hot and cold running water, a private shower, beds with real mattresses, covers and blankets, a television with satellite or cable and a locking door.

Here's my favorite camping slogan:

The Girl Child recently experienced her first church camping experience.  She was excited and nervous about going.  I was fretting over Lyme's disease, Dysentery, Malaria, Cholera, eColi, Swamp Fever, Zombie Apocalypses and other such natural things.  The whole recent outbreak of face-eating zombies has me on edge anyway.  I certainly didn't want me sweet, delicate, beautiful Girl Child turning into a face-eating zombie!

The Spouse and her father took The Girl Child to the camp.  It is literally in the middle of nowhere.  You can't get there from here and, if you do, you can't leave.  It's one of those places.  It reminds me of a place where Jason, Freddy and Chuckie would gather for a reunion.  The Spouse came back home visibly shaken at having left her baby at this place.  She never mentioned the zombies or cholera but I'm sure they were going through her mind. 

There was no means of communication.  We had to trust and believe that she was okay...for five days.

I took off work to go get her.  The Spouse and I picked up a friend whose daughter was there and we headed off to Zombie Apocalypse Park (AKA:  Church Camp) to retrieve our baby girls. 

Here's what I found when I got there:

Yes, that's The Girl Child in front of her "cabin".  Yes, that's bird poop on the window eaves.  Are those eaves?  I think that's what they are called.  Because there's no glass or screens, you put those down when it's raining or when you want to "secure" the building.  Oh yeah, nothing's getting in there if you just latch down those bird poop stained window coverings. 

The Girl Child did not appear to be suffering from any Zombie-like afflictions and she made no sudden movements toward my face or other fleshy parts.

I asked her if I could see inside her "cabin".  She took me in and this is what I saw:

Sweet Baby Jesus!  My baby girl slept on plywood box springs and a mattress that would have been better used as a home for wayward ticks and chiggers.  Notice the beautiful "curtains" that cover the windows.  Note the "natural" wood floors and walls. 

That's my sweet baby girl showing me her plan for an escape in case of Zombie invasion or whatever.  I got a little teary-eyed with pride over her planning.  She's a survivor, that's for sure!

I love my church and I love my faith.  However, I've got to wonder what type of indoctrination happened here?  This is straight up some Jim Jones Kool-Aid Farm living. 

It's been a couple of weeks and I've been watching her for signs of Zombieism, Dysentery, Cholera, Malaria, etc.  Nothing to report...so far. 

If she decides to go back next year, I'm buying her a shankin' knife to take with her.