So the other day I posted a picture of mini-me, all decked out in OshKosh overalls and hiking boots, with a backpack almost as big as me. This was me around age 3 or 4, shortly after the family packed it all up and moved to Oregon. From Los Angeles.

I also commented that I blame that experience for my un-love of camping. And yes, I was joking. Kind of.

I used to go camping with Hamburger. Poor Hamburger loves to camp. Softdrink does not. Because I have a deep and abiding love for flush toilets, mattresses, warm showers, and my hairdryer. And these are things that are not always found in campgrounds. They also weren’t found in my Oregon. Not that I needed a hairdryer when I was 4. But a flush toilet would have been nice. I really don’t remember much of those years, but I do remember playing with my brother’s Matchbox cars in the outhouse. Yes, the outhouse. I was serious about the lack of flush toilets. Because this is where I lived…