🚐 Camping… Finally! (And I Didn’t Even Forget the Marshmallows… Yet)

Funny thing about camping. I spent my whole life wanting to go—and somehow, I always ended up back home, still smelling like the farm instead of the campfire.

As a kid, I begged my dad to let us camp by the lake. His answer?
“Why would I give up my bed to sleep by the lake when we live by this lake?”

You know—classic Dad logic. I still don’t know if he meant it or if he was just too tired to mess with tent poles.

Either way, while my cousins got to stay overnight roasting marshmallows and swapping ghost stories, I had to pack it up and head home.
Because—you guessed it—Dad had to milk the cows.

And me? My lip was dragging so low it was practically plowing the dirt the whole walk back.

💙 Then came Gary.

Oh, sweet Gary. That man loved camping.

And when we camped with the Butterfields? Whew—let’s just say those trips gave me enough material to write a sitcom. We had some good times.

But after Gary passed… well, camping just wasn’t the same. I couldn’t drive the camper, and honestly, it felt like camping had lost its sparkle.

👉 Then came Rick.

Rick didn’t just own a camper—Rick lived in his camper. Full-time.

We took it out on one camping trip before we moved to Montana. After that? He parked it at every job site and said, “I’m good.”

He actually said,
“Why would I camp when I already live in my camper?”

Every day was camping when you’re living in a rolling shoebox.

🏔️ And once we moved to Montana?

Forget about it. Camping wasn’t even on the radar.

I worked jobs where summer time-off was pure fantasy. Try asking a car rental company for vacation in July—they’d laugh so hard you’d think you told them a joke.

I did manage to sneak away once for a family reunion, but only after enough whining and begging that my boss finally waved me out the door like, “Fine! Go!”

But that meant I had to leave Rick in his camper at the job site—since his work was seasonal too.

🌞 But THIS summer? Oh, honey—this summer’s different.

We’re both retired. I still work part-time, but for this summer, I told them:
“Put me on call. I’m going camping. Period.”

And here’s where the real adventure begins.

💥 See, Rick still had his camper… but I hated that thing.

Stayed in it a few times and decided:
“Nope. Never again.”

So I started looking for something better. And wouldn’t you know it? I found one online.

The pictures were stunning. It looked like Martha Stewart herself had decorated it.

But here’s the kicker: it was full of stuff.

I mean, dishes, bedding, knickknacks—you name it. I kept staring at the photos thinking,
“Why wouldn’t they clear this junk out so people could see the space?”

Well… turns out… they were selling it with all the stuff. Yep. Everything inside came with it. Like some weird garage sale on wheels.

Good thing? Bad thing? I guess I’ll find out when I open the cabinets and see what falls out first.

💬 The folks we bought it from were the sweetest.

They bought it in 2012, used it until COVID hit, and haven’t moved it since.

She told me she didn’t “go camping”—she lived in it.

It’s been sitting in a heated garage for five years—basically living the retirement life I’m dreaming of.

But now, health issues mean they can’t travel anymore, so rather than sort it all out, they handed me the keys and said,
“Here ya go! Enjoy the treasure hunt.”

🚚 Of course, buying a camper isn’t simple. Oh no.

First, we had to buy a truck to haul it.

Then we needed to buy a hitch.

Next up? A trip to Spokane to pick it up.

At this point, we’re basically funding an episode of Extreme Makeover: Retirement Edition.

And we haven’t even gotten the thing home yet!

🗺️ We’ve got a few trips planned—one with Dennis and Vicky, maybe another with Kathy and Sharon… and honestly?

Who knows when we’ll get home. Might not be till September.

And if that happens, I’ll try to upload stories at every Wi-Fi stop along the way—campgrounds, coffee shops, heck, maybe even the neighbor’s signal if I stand on one leg by the fence.

🔥 So if you don’t hear from me for a while, don’t worry—

I’m probably sitting by a campfire somewhere, sipping wine out of the fancy glasses the previous owner left behind.

Because nothing says camping like drinking boxed wine from a crystal goblet while watching Rick try to figure out the leveling jacks.

👉 Here’s hoping this camper’s got more stories than storage bins!

💬 Wanda-ism

👉Camping: because nothing says relaxation like figuring out how to dump a black water tank.”

✨ Pull up a chair. I’ve got a story.