Anywhere But Here

Believe it or not, I'm actually going on vacation this year.

The last time I went on a real honest-to-god vacation was about six years ago. Six years! I went to New York with Rosencrantz, Mike Dangers, and his friend Todd. We spent entirely too much money, pissed off the bartender in the Detroit airport bar, walked all over East Village, went out to a club and made friends with the bartender, got mistaken for locals more than once, called people from odd places (we called my then-roommate from the top of the Empire State Building), and came home with a page's worth of inside jokes and non-sequiters ("Be careful! That bathroom door doesn't lock!"). Most of our adventures ended up in Rosencrantz's novel. (Will someone please publish this damn book? It's an amazing piece of work, and I want everyone in the world to read it.)

It was fun, but not enough fun to last me for the rest of my life. I'm ready for a lengthy trip away from the Queen City. I had a great opportunity last year to take a cruise when Roger Mexico was working for The Evil Cruise Line, but one of the other ships had propulsion problems and all friends-and-family trips were cancelled so they could accomodate the passengers who had booked cruises on the disabled ship. So much for my trip to Grand Cayman.

So this is it. No fooling around this time. I'm funding the trip with my tax return and a little supplemental cash from the next few paychecks. I've already requested the time off at work. I've already started to window shop and make little lists of stuff I'll need to buy for the trip. It's not until July, but I'm already getting excited. And a little apprehensive.

See, here's the thing. We're going camping.

Granted, it's at a campground for a festival (yeah, it's one of those neo-pagan gathering things) so it's not like we're going to really be roughing it. They have a hot tub on grounds, for crying out loud. There'll be tons of other people and workshops and performances and merchants. Yeah, camping is tough.

But it still will involve me sleeping in a tent for a week, which is a big thing. The last time I slept in a tent was when I was a 10-year old Girl Scout, and even that was in semi-permanent tents with wood floor platforms. My troop was pretty lame.

But I can do this. I have little fear of bugs or getting a bit dirty. I'm not super outdoorsy girl, but it's not beyond the realm of possibilty. And the way I figure it, if JohnnyB survived a weekend camping with Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and the Urban Sasquatch, then I can survive a week in the wilds of western New York. I am most certainly not going to be shown up by the goth pimp daddy; I'm tougher than that. Hell, even he knows I could kick his ass.

But just because I can physically do this doesn't mean I can materially do this. I have no tent. I have no sleeping bag. I don't even have a good pair of walking/hiking shoes. All of my backpacks are bookbag sized. I am so not prepared for this trip.

So I'm perusing a website I thought I'd never touch (Dick's?) so I can get an idea of how much this is going to cost me. I'm expecting a call from JohnnyB so we can discuss carpooling to the campground. I've been driving Rosencrantz crazy with millions of questions about what I should pack.

I know it's a little early to announce my vacation plans to everyone here, but it's been on my mind today for a few reasons. I got my federal tax return, so now it's monetarily possible. And I'm still expecting that call from JohnnyB to start preliminary planning.

But the main reason is that work completely bit today, and I had to think of something good to keep from screaming out loud.

Big reminder! The rescheduled Full Contact Poetry show with Gojira and Condemned to Extinction is this Friday at Sudsy Malones. Please cancel any previous plans and come out and see us. Poetry, loud music, beer and laundry. It will make your whites whiter and brighter. And if you can't make it, I swear the Full Contact Poetry site will be up eventually, and there will probably be pictures of all the fun.

Must go home now. It's the season finale of Buffy and Angel and I must prepare. VCR set? Check. Snack foods bought? Check. Wide array of beverages? Check. Empty ashtray? Check. Kleenex on hand? Check. (Somebody's gonna die tonight, I can just feel it. And the way things have been going, it's not gonna be pretty.)

Sorry I'm not more entertaining tonight. Go read Zappagirl. The kitties are posting. That's what she gets for leaving the computer on while she's at work.