Hooray! It’s release day!

Hooray! It’s release day!

I wrote this blog as a ‘thank you’ to my husband for supporting me through all the craziness.

On the weekend-eve of book release, Mark and I spent a night of stay-cation camping at our Country Club with our son, Jack and his friend.  What could possibly go wrong? Here’s a snapshot:

We broke camp on the lawn of the country club golf course. I was drinking Chardonnay while Mark sweated it out, setting up one tent for us and one tent for Jack and his buddy, Ashton. Phew.  Hard work. After about an hour, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we were the only campers participating in the ‘tent-camping’ part of the event. I took the kids to the golf-cart-drive-in movie while Mark joined a group heading out to play Glow-Golf. Sounds dreamy, right?

It truly was up until around midnight. After the movie the boys and I returned to the campsite and started to prepare for bed. In the distance I noticed glowing lights…moving toward us. As the glow drew closer the form of a man emerged. Mark was making his way back to our posh campsite lit by glow necklaces and bourbon. I’m not quite sure if the slight tilt to his walk was caused by the weight of the neon bling adorning his neck, wrists and ankles or by the bourbon, but he looked like a Transformer in need of a battery.

The boys disappeared into their tent and we crashed on the queen size air mattress, which Mark had purchased earlier that day to lower the risk of me sneaking off to sleep on the couch in the women’s locker room. I hit the mattress and immediately rolled into the trench created by the snoring Transformer. Pinned on the other side by our Maltese poodle, Luci, whom I had smuggled into camp–I lay there sweating in my trench, surrounded by the stifling humidity from the ninety-degree day and the aroma of wet poodle.

The electrical current from the nearby golf shed buzzed and crackled, while the floodlights from the pool beamed a hole in my forehead—when we set up our tent we hadn’t considered the fact that those lights don’t turn off. AND here comes the best part. We woke up to golfers teeing off ten feet from our tent.  A horrifying “PING” zinging through my brain along with the realization that I’d thrown all the covers off and unzipped the windows because it was six degrees hotter than hell in that damn tent. Hello neighbor! Don’t mind the dead raccoon plastered to my head, also known as yesterdays’ really cute hairdo.  I guess that answers the question of why we were the only campers–the only fools that thought ‘this would be fun’ when the newsletter popped up in our e-mails advertising the event.

Despite all that, Mark Kraushaar—if that’s what I have to go through to be by your side—bring it on! I’m all in–crazy in love. Thank you for supporting me through all the craziness.

Anyone else have a camping trip horror memory to share?

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