Ruby Rose love...

My goodness, you guys... look at what those Ruby Rosies are up to this weekend.  I think Stephanie and Co. snuck into my brain and brought all my dreamy camping fantasies to life.  We're so lucky to have a place like this in SLO.  I'm just constantly in awe.  Thanks for being so amazing, RR.

P.S.

Remembering our summer adventure.

+ Moonrise Magic.

{Photo via Ruby Rose}

Camping... the countdown.

You guys, Jeff bought a tent.  This camping thing is legit.  

No, it's not the totally unrealistic, totally darling Cath Kidston teepee I had my heart set on...  

No.

It's this beast:

The water-proof/weather-proof, 10-bazillion person, last-forever, Elliott poo-colored, smart person tent from Coleman.  Sure, if you're into that whole practical/rational/normal thing.  I'm not gonna lie...  seeing the tent made this whole thing feel much more real, and I almost cried.  ALMOST.  But I am keeping it together, accepting it, and preparing myself for the inevitable.  "Preparing" in this case - means outfits.  Scoff all you want, Claassen family, outfitting myself is how I deal with difficult situations.  Properly outfitted, I can be/do/accomplish/conquer ANYTHING.  Even camping.  

*gulp*

How I imagine camping-me will look...

Dudes!  I have that expression MASTERED!  Elliott even does a great impression of it:

And the boots... I will be wearing the boots.  Not in green, in "Midnight Sparkle".  Duh.

How camping-me will actually look:

1. Madewell fedora, with pheasant feather band

2. Vintage polka dot cotton shell tank

3. Charlotte Tarantola cardigan blazer

4. J Crew Tomboy shorts

5. H&M Leopard flats

Ok, don't laugh!  This is how I do "outdoors-y", people (and yes, I fully acknowledge that this is ridiculous).   But home is my happy place, and camping is like... the opposite of that.  Kay, at Picking Daisies described it as follows:  "...having to do all the things you regularly do daily, but under the worst of circumstances".  Truth, Kay.  Truth...  Honestly though, I've found that putting these camping ensembles together is my niche!  It might be my secret to embracing camping.  I'd even venture to say that I'm teetering on enthusiasm!  Ok, let's not go crazy, Coral - maybe uhhh... interest is a better word for it.  Yeah.  

Camping?  Pfft...  I got this.  :)

*Next up... gear.  I'm trying to convince myself that "gear" does not mean tent decor.  I'm alllllmost there, Sahnzy!  Looove youuu!

Happy Camping...

Are you a happy camper?

Wanna know the truth about me?  I'm not a good camper.  In my everyday life, this really isn't an issue.  But...  (oh the "but")  Jeffrey and his family are camping folk.  The real kind.  With long drives to campsites, tents, and cooking over fire...  Lord, give me strength.  

Ok, I freely admit that this isn't the end of the world.  I'm not proud of the fact that I have such an aversion to smelling like smoke, that I avoid entire blocks of Farmers Market on Thursdays.  And that smell wafting through the sky on Thursday nights is as close to camping as I care to get.  No, really.  Really. 

Here's the dilemma, friends...  

The Claassen's have planned a family camping trip and I have been instructed to "suck it up, and do it for the kids".  Urrghhh...  Really?  Do kids need camping?  I think my distaste for the outdoors came about from my own dad's enthusiasm for it.  I've slept through a storm at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and sat on the side of the road watching him fix a Winnebago through numerous states.  I'm not sure that he needed to do that for me, but thank you regardless, dad.  ♥

I'm trying to get my head into camping-mode - and yes, trying not to be such a panty about it all.  In this period of mental preparation, I'm thinking about the things that will make me happy and comfortable on the trip (in hopes of sparing others of my woe-is-me face).  I even have a camping inspiration board.  Ready?

I AM SO SERIOUS, you guys.  

I imagine myself smelling like peppermint Dr.Bronner's soap (not campfire), and wearing my Hunter boots with vintage tunic dresses...  and my hair is inexplicably way longer too.  And wavy.  Yeah.  Totally wavy.  NATURALLY, wavy though.  And I subsist on marshmallows, perfectly toasted over an odorless flame.  I sit in my Cath Kidston teepee surrounded by cushy pillows with jingly pompoms on the corners, journaling about my experience in nature.  Am I forgetting anything here?  

AH!  I also fly-fish like a pro.  But, you know, in a gorgeous Free People-y kind-of way.  Duh.

And the title of my future best-selling book?  GLAMPING.

Boom.

*Let's Sleep Under Stars print, via The Wheatfield by Katie Daisy