Oma Turns 86

Eric and I went to the peninsula this weekend to see his grandma. We call her "Oma," which means grandma in German. She was in fine spirits, drinking mimosas and teasing us about our brown paper bag gift wrap--"Is it pastrami on rye?" Here is Oma toasting 86 years.


We spent two nights at an amazing campground at Crescent Lake, which is outside of Port Angeles on Highway 101. Gorgeous! Of course, I am most definitely a car-camper: give me a campfire and a lake and I'm in heaven, but only IF I can exercise (I brought my running shoes!) and have a shower. Alas, this was not to be. We spent both nights sleeping on a slope on a rapidly deflating air mattress, in a tent with a sticky zipper. Since I spent all of night one and most of night two battling to stay uphill, I was in NO mood to jog in the morning. I did jump in the lake on the first morning, so depending on your definition of "shower," that may or may not count for that part of the bargain. I got some weird looks while diffusing my hair in the bathroom, but I didn't care--gotta look cute while boating around the lake! I was grumpy-pants for much of the weekend. Plus Eric hurt his back wake-boarding, so he was loopy on painkillers, and I was dirty and cranky. Luckily there were some saving graces: we camped with Eric's friends, who are Good Peeps, generous and kind, amazing parents to their brood (who were also there), and as well-stocked as any Costco. We started each morning with camping "mochas:" Starbucks' Frappacinos mixed with chocolate milk. Yummy!


I didn't do a very good job rolling with the punches on this trip. I will do better next time. That is, of course, assuming that my next camping trip will involve a Holiday Inn.