Moi and the Anti-Glamp: Define Camping?

When David and I were first dating, he asked me if I liked to camp. "Like? I LOVE camping!" Of course, my only point    of reference was as an invited guest, as a child, with families other than my own. Which means the dad carried my pink Samsonite luggage to my magically pitched tent (I have a picture at home to corroborate this detail) and the mom served me up plates of food that must have magically made themselves.  No one yelled at me to stop throwing red clay at my sister and no one

threatened to spank me for complaining I was bored in the car and no one reprimanded me for starting a marshmallow fight. We also stayed in one place for a week: Eating, swimming and in the case of camping with Kate, got into the types of shenanigans only a 12 year old girl can create.

So early in our marriage, David took me camping. Yippee! I was truly excited to relive my childhood. But one weekend in Balch Park, living like a homeless person without the comforts of a soup kitchen and cardboard box blanket on a church step, made me realize our definitions of camping differed. 

Epiphany! The reason my parents never took me camping was because they loved me! (Joke borrowed from the great Jim Gaffigan.) It took some time to heal those wounds and camp again.

Through the years we've "camped" a couple times, but every time we rolled away, David would tell me: "That was not camping." So, what IS camping? Define camping? This is a philosophical debate David and I have taken to the levels of Socratic rhetoric.

For this trip, we've done what all successful marriages have relied on: we compromised. Our definition of camping is a morphed version of what we both knew as a child. It's a road trip in a camper to various national parks. 

Our first night of this Mecca to Yellowstone we stayed at a Casablanca themed RV resort, complete with beach pool, diner and gift shop! Casablanca! A waterfall in the desert! Of all the gin joints in Las Vegas we "camped" at this one...no matter what happens, we'll always have KOA...

After breakfast in the diner (less than $5 a head!) and an 8:30 am swim to cool off, we left for Bryce Canyon. There are no words for this coppery beauty of contrasting colors and textures. I'll let the pictures do the talking.

A waterfall in the desert: 

Of course we had to buy new hats. Jett and I are every souvenir shop's dream come true: