I remember one Spring, or late Fall, not sure which, he took my brother and I up to the mountains for a camping trip. It was COLD. I think there were still patches of snow on the ground.
Anyway, we set up camp. Lit a campfire. Received "survival" instruction from my father, including how to heat rocks next to the campfire to put under your feet (of course under the sleeping bag) to keep warm. We were all sharing a tent and I was placed in between my brother and father so I'd be safe and warm (I guess because I was a girl).
So I was nice and snuggly with my heated rocks under my feet and the warmth of my brother and dad on either side of me. I think my brother was doing pretty well too. Just as I was dozing off my dad's voice booms "We're going to a hotel."
And off we went... Packed up the tent, sleeping bags and other items we brought in. Loaded up the 1975 yellow Ford Van and off we went. But we didn't just go to a Motel 6. Oh no... We went to a nice hotel.
I must say, though, we slept much better there. And the shower was lovely.
But I did learn how to heat rocks by the campfire to make little mini heaters.
Miss you so much, Dad!
This memory really made me laugh! I'm glad you're sharing fun memories like this. What a wonderful way to remember your father =)
ReplyDeleteNOW THEN *ahem* that said, it has come to my attention that you live in Orange County, which is like soCLOSE to where I live, like around-the-corner close, and that there is actually some sort of OC Mom meet-up thingmajig, so I have no choice but to click it. Look at me being all Internet stalkery =P