The perfect weekend

Delta and I went camping this past weekend with an unimaginable amout of kit and caboodle. Like a Chevy Chase vacation, we'd put down the backseat of the car, and had stuffed the back with various recreational odds and ends. There was a tent, two sleeping bags, two mattress pads, two camp chairs and two bikes (!) in addition to our clothes and enough food for an army. Yes, when we go camping, there is no elegance or subtlety to it.

On the way we stopped at a Target (partially because it's a cheap place to buy everything in the world one could ever want), but mostly just for the excitement of pushing a car-sized cart through the kind of suburban, commercial sprawl that we just don't get to see in the city. There, having procured even more paraphernalia, we finally felt secure enough to take the plunge of camping in the wilderness (albeit 10 mins drive from civilization).

With the infantile euphoria of children with fireworks, Delta and I then proceeded to build the largest campfire I have ever seen. (Later, when we walked away from our campsite to look at the stars, I remember turning back to look at our campsite in the distance, and it looked like a towering flame of fire next to the glowing embers from the other camps around. A great fire to warm your feet and all, but try melting a marshmellow in an inferno.

But there it was, the perfectest evening I could have hoped for: a heartwarming fire, a bottle of wine and the sky ablaze with stars jostling each other for attention.

Rousing ourselves early the next morning, we packed up camp and headed over to where the bike ride started. We were supposed to ride 53 miles, but in a last minute change of heart (and surge of panic), I asked Delta if we could change to the 27 mile route. Something about the hilly terrain had made me uneasy. When we started off on the ride, I was disappointed with myself at first, for selling out to the shorter ride.
"You should have more confidence in yourself!" Delta had urged. "You could easily have do the 53 miler."

And it may be so, but let me tell you - by hill #45 of the ride, I was pretty happy to have chosen the shorter route. To put it succinctly, the ride kicked my butt. And though he'd never admit it, I quite believe Delta was thankful for the shorter ride too.

Tennis, a sunset walk on the beach, camping under the stars, and a bikeride through the country. What more could anyone ask for in a weekend.