On a plastic dinglebog, I’ve hung an eye mask. It’s night two of front yard camping, and that’s one thing I learned from night one—the sun’s a big, bad bully to this flimsy, flamsy nylon. Evelyn is searching high and low for a white bunny stuffie she supposedly brought in here. Getting these kinks out now will help us out in the wild.
I’m about to start researching an in-tent urination station. Night one and my waddle to the sandy spot past the grass taught me that. I don’t need fancy, just something so I don’t have to shimmy out of my cozy nook, unzip, zip, go winkies, then unzip and zip to get back into my sleeping bag. Most of those middle steps I’d prefer to cut out.
Earplugs may come in helpful for those wee morning times where chirpy birds and semi-trucks flourish.
Right now, sounds include an airplane overhead, a cricket whose sound is like an annoying kid in the front row trying to get the teacher’s attention, and a few cars on the freeway.
I did bring night snacks, including a Rice Krispy treat, yogurt-covered raisins, and a mini-sized Baby Ruth. Yes, I’ve already brushed my teeth. But one special night out in the tent post-brush wouldn’t hurt anything, right? Especially since I was given a clean bill of health from the dentist last week.
Well, except for the X-ray of the bone of my front tooth. The “Y” had her inquisitive if it was degenerative and needed a specialist involved, or if it had always been that way since my tooth trauma in high school. You remember, right? That Mr. Denning struck me with the backswing of his tennis racket after I’d set up a tee for him to hit off.
One front tooth, sayonara sucker, and the other bent back and eventually needed a root canal. So we might be seeing trauma impact. If not, we’ll track next year’s X-ray to compare.
I bopped out a 3-mile run today, which is more and more my sweet spot. I’d prefer to up that to 5 or 6 miles, and perhaps in the coming weeks that will happen. I know physically I can do it—it’s just pushing past my mental block and doing it.
Right before I came out here, I was talking to Kristen on the phone, who was camping at Fort Flagler across from Port Townsend. They’re staying in a tent on cots tonight. Over speaker, Kristen asked how often Evelyn wanted to sleep in the tent, and she said, “Every night there is, for the rest of my life.”
Not even two sleeps in, and this tent has more than paid for itself. Who would have thunk? Kristen also said some of her best memories were sleeping in their yard as a kid, so I’ll ride this as far as I can until the summer’s heat bucks me.
Time to close my eyes and listen to the crickets and dogs bark.
Love,
Jaclynn