OK, so I'm back from camping and I'm thinking I just can't wait to get back in the swing of things; hitting the gym and working and whatnot. These little wilderness breaks my family take are therapeutic and help us appreciate things like indoor plumbing, clean sheets, HDTV, broadband, and the dreary, soul-crushing experience that is our day-to-day existence back in the real world.

I'm kidding and I kid because I love. Things really aren't that bad- could be better, could be worse; but I don't want to talk about that right now. I want to talk about the consequence of camping food on the ol' diet.

It seems that camping is all about snacking- at least that's how it's been with us. Muffins for breakfast, hotdogs for lunch, hamburgers for dinner, dumpcake for desert, S'mores for after-dessert-dessert. All of it bound by a never-ending stream of chips, cookies, peanuts, candy, gorp, energy bars, and hot cocoa. It's all about carb-loading and mosquitos- or carb-loading mosquitos via transfusion, I dunno, but I do know that I came back with an extra 2 pounds of cargo. I mean flubber, and a new found determination to make the next camping trip more nutritious.

I'm curious about what others pack when they go camping, food-wise. I have another trip planned and need to come up with a menu that is do-able in the woods (no electricity).

Ah, the Great Outdoors! Trees and woods, rocks and rills (rills?!?), valleys and templed hills, my heart with rapture fills...

You know the rest.

My two sons, my brother-in-law, and I just returned from a hunting trip in Central Oregon and I've got to say, it was awesome! Before any of you friends of animals get in a twist, no, I didn't kill any of God's little furry creatures- nor have I ever. Truth be told, I'm not much of a hunter. I'm big and loud and not a very good shot. A deer would probably have to wrestle my rifle away from me and shoot itself.

But I love to go hunting. I love crunching through the woods while armed and hanging around the campfire. I love being “out there” as a primitive man, tracking my next meal- at least pretending to. I love everything about hunting, minus the killing. Which is why, after 20 plus years of hunting and a multitude of animal-in-the-cross-hairs opportunities, I have yet to shoot a living thing. I'm sure I could, but my family would have to be pretty hungry before I could pull the trigger.

Predatory wimpy-ness aside, it was a great time. Now on the accommodations wimpy-ness; butt-freezing-wise.

It was c-o-l-d, cold. Highs in the 50's, lows in the 20's to 30's, cold. Too cold for a tent, cold. Two sleeping bags, wear a full set of sweats and socks to bed, cold. Yeah, it was a little chilly. We survived.

Oh, and my “bed”. It was one of those accordion-style collapsing cots with a zipped-in air mattress. Really comfy- when it isn't broken and the air mattress actually holds air. I was really looking forward to a comfortable night off the ground. I set up the cot- only to find that four legs (one complete side) were broken- probably from one of my daughter's slumber parties (trampoline-fun). I jerry-rigged the legs and inflated the mattress; hoping that all would be well, only to return to a flat mattress. I refilled it prior to climbing into bed and spent the rest of the night clinging to one side of the cot while the air left the mattress and I sank to the ground in a shivering heap.

Nights were a little tough.

The days were great. My youngest son and I hiked for miles (about 6 per day) up and down hills and cliffs, gullies and some awesome terrain. It was strenuous but I made it through- a heck of a lot easier than last year. Had I not dropped the 80+ pounds I would have croaked. As it was, no huffing and puffing, no sweating, no problem. Four months ago was a different story.

I was able to maintain my usual eating patterns and food choices, less the smoothies. I made up for those by eating the components separately; protein mix (made like hot chocolate), berries, peanut butter, etc all work pretty well by themselves even in small amounts. Easy-cheesy.

All in all it was a great time and after my weigh-in this morning I'm feeling pretty good about staying on-plan no matter what I'm doing and no matter where I go- something sure to continue as long as I am committed.

We're doing it again next year- in a trailer- with beds- and a heater.

Down 65 pounds and recovering from a nasty chest cold- oh boy! Life's bittersweet!

Last weekend found us out amongst and amidst Mother Nature. We spent four days camping- partially with a group, and partially on our own. Both were enjoyable for the most part.

Camping with a group may be a little tougher for me than others. First of all, I find it really hard to tolerate other people's kids in a normal situation let alone without the comforts of home and my office- in which I hide when the little darlings become absolutely unbearable. Ugh.

Anyway there we were, lots of other people's kids, marshmallows, dirt, bugs, and fire; living in a tent which, amazingly, isn't sound-proof, or smoke-proof, nor does it provide any kind of barrier from any sort of nuisance whatsoever.

Now I have to mention the almost supernatural attraction campfires have over other people's little boys. Gawd! My sons went through it as well; sticks and torches and paper plates and whatever-else usually made its' way into the fire. But these kids!?! Handfuls of pine needles and dirt- nonstop- one after the other creating the smokiest, dirtiest campfire I ever had the discomfort of enduring for three straight days.

I like efficient fires; not too big but just enough to cut the chill and put that warm glow on the faces of all who gather around it, a nice bed of glowing coals to roast goodies over and very little smoke. Other people's kids wouldn't let that happen, oh no, coals covered with dirt, plastic cups and silverware, and billowing toxic smoke to choke and offend. This drove us into our tent and back out again- since we mistakenly placed it where it would ultimately end up downwind from the fire. It was horrid.

Do other peoples' kids' parents put an end to it? Oh hail no! They giggle and talk about how cute and grown up and clever the little scamps are. There was nothing cute about what was going on and when I told them so they all made a half-arsed attempt to put an end to it:

"Johnny, would you please, kindly stop throwing your flashlight in the fire?" and "Pretty-please no more dirt in the fire honey-bunny cause we may desire to cook our marshmallow-wellows on it and you might maybe know the blah-blah-blah."

None of this was effective, obviously. Best not to bruise little Johnny's self esteem by making him keep the toxic plastic and animal excrement out of the fire. Grrrr!

Yeah, I may be intolerant and grouchy. But so what? Other people's kids' parents should manage their kids because if they had, I'm sure we wouldn't have had to suffer through a week of upper-repiratory distress and hacking up brown gobs of dirt and burnt gawd-knows-what.

I'll work on my tolerance. I hope others work on their parenting skills.