The last dusty plastic dish has been washed. The ice chest has been emptied, rinsed, and packed away. All of the campfire-smoked clothes have been fumigated and the only remnants of our church’s annual family camping trip are our memories and the three dozen photos locked away in the bits and bytes of our Nikon Coolpix digital camera. Frankly, I hope a few of the memories fade into obscurity. Like the smell inside the tent when I was cleaning up Caleb’s latest monument to the inadequacy of my potty training techniques (Although, in all fairness, it could have been much worse. My multitudinous thanks go out to the inventor of Pull-Ups.) Or Katie’s allergy attack that woke me up at three in the morning and kept me awake for the next four hours listening to a rhythmic symphony of *sniff*…*cough*………*sniff, sniff*……*snort*….*cough*, punctuated by squeaks and rustles as she tried in vain to get comfortable on the inflatable plastic pillow that came with her new sleeping bag. The boys, being boys, slept right through it. (For the rest of the post by Katrina/Notes On A Napkin, click here.)

Question: Did you camp this summer?

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