This past weekend I went camping in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains with a group of friends and strangers to celebrate the unofficial end of summer.

It was an absolutely perfect weekend.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sky so blue, and certainly not for three straight days in a row.  The nights were just cool enough to justify throwing on a hoody and snuggling up close to the fire, but not too cold to prevent anyone from playing cards or beer pong (aka Chandeliers, depending on where you may have matriculated). 

Not being an outdoorsman myself, I doubted my ability to happily spend three nights in the woods without any modern conveniences including (gasp!) cell phones and laptops, or the lesser necessities like a toilet and running water. 

But it turned out to be one of the more relaxing weekends I’ve had in a very long time.  It reminded me of summers when I was a little kid.  I had no responsibility.  No wireless meant I couldn’t check in with my work email just to see if some crisis was happening that I should know about.  No  cellphone meant that I couldn’t return those calls that I’ve been meaning to make but just haven’t gotten around to.  Being out of my apartment meant that I couldn’t look at the plants that need watering, the shower that needs recaulking, the laundry that needs ironing, the carpet that needs vacuuming.  Drinking next to a campfire about 25 steps from my tent meant no wondering whether I’ll make the last metro, no worrying if a third beer will take me just over the .08 threshhold, no last calls, no tabs to close out and divide.  There were no clocks to tell me when I should wake up, when I should eat, when I should go to bed.  I ate when I was hungry, I went to bed when I was sleepy and I woke up once the sunlight started filtering into my tent.  Shoot, I didn’t even have to walk my dog.  Upon arrival at the campsite, he hopped out of the car and immediately watered the first blade of grass he could find, and then apparently made it his weekend mission to water every other living plant in the surrounding forest.

I missed the boy, of course.  Each day I drove out 6.7 miles to get into cell phone range, only to talk to his voicemail (stupid work making him work when I’m trying to call).  It would have been nice to have him there with me, staring at the fire, looking at the stars, playing around in the lake, cuddled up in the tent.  But in an odd way, it was also nice to get the chance to miss him.  I miss him all of the time anyway – such be the curse of the long distance relationship – but the weekend made it very clear to me that I don’t want to go another day without hearing his voice. 

Okay – so that’s camping.  Hooray for me for staying on topic this time.  PS – I saw a bear.