Beauty Is In The Eye . . . Nah . . . This Was Just Darn Beautiful

Let's see . . . update in the life of Andrea Peach . . . complete with the funny quips and evocative writing you've all come to love.

Not happening.

I've promised multiple individuals that I would get this post up and running . . . so, for now, you'll have to settle for the summary.

We packed up the family and went to Eleven Mile to camp. Most of Eleven Mile is flat plains with gentle rolling hills. Most folks drive their campers right up to the lakeside - after all, Eleven Mile is known for its fishing.


Then there are those of us who know about their "back-country" camping.


You park the car at the base of the hill, and then trek in 3/4 mile to the campsites. Did I mention bears? Definitely bear country . . . so if you go, expect to make the trek to your car several times a day - as leaving any food stuffs in your camp (including toothpaste and fishing bait) is not the wisest of all choices. Then again, neither is building a fire under the rain-fly on your tent . . . but hey, who were we to get in the way of Darwinsim in action?!

But is it worth it, you ask?






Oh, yes. Yes, it is.

I hereby title this one: "The Lonely Tree"


We are finally the proud owners of a tent that fits three (okay . . . two and a half, all our gear, and one messy poochie) instead of the cavernous circus tent of camping trips past.


Camp, sweet camp. The white dot under the picnic table is Tika's little white face. Dogs must be kept on a leash at all times, and Tika kept winding herself around the picnic table until she couldn't move. I never claimed to own the brightest boo in the box.

Here I am on day three . . . tired, sticky, coated in bug spray, and wondering if everyone looks this dorky when they camp.

But, look. If there is anything in the world that can trivialize three days without a shower and justify the stench of bug spray . . . this would be it.