Camping

Betsy and Katie (Hey Brian, watcha doin.) share the same birthday--I say this because there may be one or two readers who don't understand the concept of "twins." Also Katie's husband Jimmy's birthday is the day before theirs, so we usually celebrate together with some sort of exciting activity (on their 30th birthday we all went skydiving). The weekend before the girls' 40th birthdays (I think Jimmy turned 87), we decided to start a yearly tradition where we all go camping. 

Betsy, it should be noted, does not like camping. She has been camping once before in Colorado. Betsy, Katie, Jimmy, my sister Ginger, myself, and two dogs went up in the mountains outside Colorado Springs and camped on a lake. Ginger and I hiked through the mountains to get there and the others drove around and met us at the site with the tents, food, and other equipment. This was also on Betsy's birthday, and I had the same idea that it could be the beginning of a yearly tradition. Unfortunately, something about the idea of being outside in constant rain, chasing after our dog as she ran off after a squirrel or neighboring camper, squabbling with each other over who got the broken tent, eating subpar food cooked on an unsteady gas stove, dirt and mud on herself on the food and in the tent, fighting with the dog and her husband trying to find sleeping space on an inflatable mattress designed for one did not appeal to her. Oh yeah, and there were signs everywhere warning us about bears. Betsy was a little worried about bears. 

A number of years have gone by since then though. I like to think we can reminisce and laugh about these things in the distant past.

"Remember that miserable night we had in the tent where Lilly kept pushing us off the mattress and you thought every little noise was a ferocious bear? Good times."

I figured maybe enough time has gone by for us to try to reintroduce the yearly camping tradition. So, Katie, Jimmy and I got Grace really excited about camping. Then we set a date and of course Betsy had to go because her daughter might get eaten by a bear, and the yearly tradition is alive again!!!

We camped one night on the eastern side of Great Smoky Mountains National Park at a lovely campground called Smokemont. In my opinion, this still isn't "real" camping because we didn't hike 10 miles to get to the site, there were actual bathrooms with running water (and toilet paper! Why use TP when a few sturdy leaves will suffice?), we were not out in the wilderness for days with no sign of modern civilization, and there was no real danger of being eaten by bears since other campers were all around us and they would've been eaten first. But, we'll slowly work our way up to that.

I didn't bring my blender out during the trip; kind of a bummer. Smokemont's handicapped camp sites had electric hookups, but they were for CPAP machines and couldn't handle the energy requirements of the Blendtec. I've heard about diesel powered blenders that people make margaritas with while tailgating. Maybe the people who make this blender would like to get me one and sponsor my next camping trip (hint, hint)?? This time, I blended two meals beforehand, one for Saturday night, and one for Sunday morning. The dinner blend was leftovers from a meal I had at Magnolia Grill the night before, and the breakfast blend was the same thing I have every morning (banana, egg, sunflower butter, almond butter, whole milk plain yogurt, and green tea). I poured each meal in travel thermoses and put them in a cooler so they wouldn't spoil. Some people put their blends in ziplock bags and freeze them beforehand when they travel but this gets a bit unwieldy for a one-handed guy like me. So I prefer containers. I heard about "Blender Bottles" available at most health food stores, so I think I'll look into that for next time. I also brought along Ensures camping for snacks between meals.

This is the point where I share the awesome picture I took of me at the campsite picnic table eating my meal through a tube with tent and campfire in the background. I promise I did have that picture on my phone and was all prepared to post it here. Then, a few days after we went camping, my phone got tired of living and leaped out of my shorts and into a nearby swimming pool. Or maybe I was a moron and foolishly went in the pool without taking my phone out of my pocket. I have dim recollections of this event. Regardless, I lost all my pictures. So, you'll have to settle with some photos Katie took of the trip.

Sleeping on gravel sure does suck when the air mattress has a hole in it

REAL camping doesn't have picnic tables. You eat in the dirt, and you like it! You love it!

Note the bathroom in the background. What, are we at the Ramada??

Grace and cousin Julie at the start of an arduous hike through the wilderness

The creek near our tent where the girls got to do some tubing

Betsy has TENTATIVELY agreed to go camping again, so the trip was a success! We'll be through-hiking the Appalachian Trail while living off the land in a couple years!!! By that time, we'll have perfected the Baby Bird Method* of tubefeeding where Betsy and Grace chew up food and regurgitate it into my tube.

*Patent pending

My Pity Party

Betsy always says she is amazed at my great attitude through all this. I rarely complain and try to keep my sense of humor, but I'm allowed to vent every once in a while, right? Can I lament the things I've lost in the last few years?

Children stare at me, I am constantly mistaken for a girl on the phone, people often don't understand me when I talk, I drool in public, I can no longer juggle, do flips on the trampoline, ride a two-wheeled bike, paddle a boat with my hands, open a bag of chips without scissors, tie a shoe, tie a tie, zip a zipper, taste the foods I love, whistle, sing, swim, run, play soccer, or ultimate frisbee. I used to love playing ultimate frisbee. We went to a new indoor trampoline center the other day, and one of the girls we were with was demonstrating her back flip. All I could think was, I used to be able to do that. I'm so envious when anyone shows Grace a skill that I'm no longer capable of doing. This must be what it feels like to grow old, only it's happening to me in my 30's, rather than my 60's.

Betsy constantly tells me how good I look, how I don't look any different from the day she met me. This either implies that I am an extremely lucky man, or her LASIK surgery didn't go as well as we thought. I like to think of myself as the villain Two-Face from Batman: horribly disfigured on one side and devastatingly handsome on the other. OK, one of those is an exaggeration; you can decide which one.

I know! I know! Don't tell me about all the things I should be thankful for! I have this precious time with Grace. I'm not in a wheelchair. I don't have to be tethered to a feeding pump. I'm able to feed and dress myself. I can drive myself. I can hike. I ride a recumbent bike that my friend lent me. I don't have PTSD, ALS, CP, GP, MS, TBI, or any other acronym I can't think of right now. I get a great pension and health insurance from the military. I don't wallow in self pity, so you don't need to send me your, "Well at least you don't have ________, Brian!" messages. I can bitch about my situation without reproach now and then can't I?

Sometimes I feel like I'm not allowed to complain. If people complain too much then that's how they're labeled. "Pity party's over, dude. Quit your whining, suck it up, and come back to the real world," they'd say derisively. I see all these people around me or read about others online who are so much worse off than I am. What right do I have to moan about my petty problems? It's like when Grace cries because she lost a toy. When your kid cries over some imagined crisis don't you just want to yell, "SERIOUSLY??? There are millions of kids in this world who can't afford one toy, and you're whining about ONE of your TEN Barbie Dolls?!?"

But you don't say that to your child. You hold her and dry her tears until she stops crying. You try to put yourself in her shoes, remember what it was like when you were a kid. When your toys were the most important things in the world. So, can't I cry and whine like Grace once in a while? Have I spent enough time in hospitals to earn that?

So, this post is my one chance to express regret over something I've lost. I might complain some more in the future, but I'll try not to make a habit of it. Eric O'Gorman, another tubie whose blog I admire (he passed away last year), used to write posts every now and then called "What I Want Right Now." In these posts he would lament something he could no longer have, like a peanut butter sandwich (http://www.entropyandlight.blogspot.com/2010/11/things-i-want-right-now-7.html).

Following Eric's example, let me specify one thing I miss: applesauce. Applesauce is my favorite food. My mom used to make it when I was a kid and it was so delicious. She'd peel up a whole pile of apples from our tree and cook them in a little water with sugar and cinnamon. Then, she'd can them for us to use through the winter. It wasn't too chunky or too smooth. In the immortal words of Yo Gabba Gabba!, it was "a party in my tummy." I could go through a whole jar in one sitting. Don't you love the taste of applesauce??

Heaven in a Bowl

That is all.