Camping
I'm always optimistic about camping. I love the idea of disconnecting for the weekend. I love the thought of slowing down, enjoying nature, exploring the outdoors. Mostly I love the fire. The satisfaction of building it, of stoking it, bringing it to life and watching it consume log after log. Cooking over it is fun too. It makes me nostalgic for my days in the Girl Scouts. We camped a lot and I always loved the romance of it. Sleeping outside (sort of), foraging for wood (in addition to what we brought with us), being one with nature (ok, not really, but you get the idea).
The girls love it too and for all of the same reasons (maybe not so much the fire or the being disconnected). We camped a few times in Phoenix and had many disasters, including Iris's first camping trip which ended maybe six hours after it started but that's for another post. It was harder there because you couldn't reserve a space and the drive to where the cooler weather was made it an all or nothing attempt. We turned back more than once because there were no vacancies. Pennsylvania's numerous state parks fortunately are not first come first serve and we've found a few favorite places among the camp sites.
This past weekend, we went with a family cabin. This was our second cabin camping in the last three years and I'd forgotten just how perfect these cabins were for our family. They're spacious--two bedrooms a kitchen/living room and a full bath. Porch, fire ring, driveway and TONS of space to explore. The only downside (and I do mean the only one) is that the beds are horribly uncomfortable. But it's camping, right? You're not supposed to expect luxury.
I was especially excited to go this weekend to get some serious reading in. I've been behind in my reading and wanted to catch up. But my Friday afternoon changed that plan, much to my dismay. We'd been working on a big grant proposal to a big foundation--big. BIG! One of the largest we've asked for. It was a huge feather in our cap just to be invited to submit. I got the draft on Friday and it just wasn't ready. It wasn't compelling. It didn't tell the story. It wasn't "wow!". And if we were going to get this funding, I knew it needed to be all of those things. But it was due Monday. And I was camping this weekend.
The option not to camp simply wasn't there. We were going. It was paid for. I certainly wasn't going to ask Nick to go alone with the girls. No, I'd simply have to carve out some of that coveted reading time and set it aside for serious grant proposal writing. Ugh. I hate grants. HATE them. The only fundraising I hate more than grants is events. It's strange, I realize that someone like me who loves to write hates grant proposal writing. But I do. I think it's because they ask deep questions and give you ridiculously limited space in which to answer. Tell me your entire life story in one tweet. GO!
On top of that, I didn't really feel especially qualified to write this grant--I still feel new here and haven't been exposed to all of our programs. Plus, I really don't want to be a bull in a china shop and re-write the things that have been working just fine and risk funding just because I think I could write things better.
But this proposal seriously needed some help. So, I would camp and I would write. Humph.
Our drive to the park on Friday evening took longer than we expected (as usual) and when we got there, it was dark and cold so we opted for hot dogs cooked inside. Sacrilege, I know but everyone was exhausted and excited to be in the cabin. We had an energetic Olson family dance party after dinner and then it was off to bed for one and all.
Those beds. They really are awful. Being a queen size was bad enough (Nick and I are used to the California king, not to mention most nights we sleep in different states) but it was just hard. No pillow top. No mattress pad. Again, camping, I get it but I did not have a restful sleep. I woke up at 2am hoping it was 5am. That never happens.
I forced myself to stay in bed until 4. I dozed off a few more times but not wanting to toss and turn, I got up, closed the bedroom doors for everyone and headed to the kitchen to rummage through the camping food bin in search of my brand new camping French press. What's a morning without coffee?
As I waited for the water to boil I pulled out my bag of projects and spread out on the kitchen table. I had my notebooks, my planner, my Storytelling for Grant Writers book and the dreaded proposal. I picked it up and read the first question:
"Describe the youth development program—connect design and impact (qualifications of staff; structure; youth leadership; impact)"
I didn't read the draft answer, but instead thought. And then, the words came. (I'm gonna get metaphorical here, so just bear with me.) They flowed like a gurgling creek and then rushed like raging river. They poured out in abundance like an Arizona monsoon. Word after word, sentence after sentence.
I was interrupted by the sound of the boiling water in my coffee pot and stopped to reflect. It was better. It was good. It was fundable! I brewed a cup of coffee and read the next question, again, not reading the drafted answer. As I continued to write well into the 6:00 hour I realized I did know our programs. I was qualified to write this. And write it I did! I was on FIRE! I wrote and wrote and wrote until the children woke up and destroyed all peace and serenity but by then I had gotten through most of the questions. And it was only Saturday morning!
I put the proposal aside for the rest of the weekend, feeling accomplished and satisfied with my work. I still had plenty of time for reading and plenty of coffee to get me through the rough nights of sleeping. When we left on Sunday, I decided that I should be allowed to write this trip off as an unreimbursed business expense and declared that whenever I have a proposal to write, I shall retreat to the wilderness and once again find my muse in the nearby streams and trees, which will no doubt be waiting for me when next we return.
The girls love it too and for all of the same reasons (maybe not so much the fire or the being disconnected). We camped a few times in Phoenix and had many disasters, including Iris's first camping trip which ended maybe six hours after it started but that's for another post. It was harder there because you couldn't reserve a space and the drive to where the cooler weather was made it an all or nothing attempt. We turned back more than once because there were no vacancies. Pennsylvania's numerous state parks fortunately are not first come first serve and we've found a few favorite places among the camp sites.
This past weekend, we went with a family cabin. This was our second cabin camping in the last three years and I'd forgotten just how perfect these cabins were for our family. They're spacious--two bedrooms a kitchen/living room and a full bath. Porch, fire ring, driveway and TONS of space to explore. The only downside (and I do mean the only one) is that the beds are horribly uncomfortable. But it's camping, right? You're not supposed to expect luxury.
I was especially excited to go this weekend to get some serious reading in. I've been behind in my reading and wanted to catch up. But my Friday afternoon changed that plan, much to my dismay. We'd been working on a big grant proposal to a big foundation--big. BIG! One of the largest we've asked for. It was a huge feather in our cap just to be invited to submit. I got the draft on Friday and it just wasn't ready. It wasn't compelling. It didn't tell the story. It wasn't "wow!". And if we were going to get this funding, I knew it needed to be all of those things. But it was due Monday. And I was camping this weekend.
The option not to camp simply wasn't there. We were going. It was paid for. I certainly wasn't going to ask Nick to go alone with the girls. No, I'd simply have to carve out some of that coveted reading time and set it aside for serious grant proposal writing. Ugh. I hate grants. HATE them. The only fundraising I hate more than grants is events. It's strange, I realize that someone like me who loves to write hates grant proposal writing. But I do. I think it's because they ask deep questions and give you ridiculously limited space in which to answer. Tell me your entire life story in one tweet. GO!
On top of that, I didn't really feel especially qualified to write this grant--I still feel new here and haven't been exposed to all of our programs. Plus, I really don't want to be a bull in a china shop and re-write the things that have been working just fine and risk funding just because I think I could write things better.
But this proposal seriously needed some help. So, I would camp and I would write. Humph.
Our drive to the park on Friday evening took longer than we expected (as usual) and when we got there, it was dark and cold so we opted for hot dogs cooked inside. Sacrilege, I know but everyone was exhausted and excited to be in the cabin. We had an energetic Olson family dance party after dinner and then it was off to bed for one and all.
Those beds. They really are awful. Being a queen size was bad enough (Nick and I are used to the California king, not to mention most nights we sleep in different states) but it was just hard. No pillow top. No mattress pad. Again, camping, I get it but I did not have a restful sleep. I woke up at 2am hoping it was 5am. That never happens.
I forced myself to stay in bed until 4. I dozed off a few more times but not wanting to toss and turn, I got up, closed the bedroom doors for everyone and headed to the kitchen to rummage through the camping food bin in search of my brand new camping French press. What's a morning without coffee?
As I waited for the water to boil I pulled out my bag of projects and spread out on the kitchen table. I had my notebooks, my planner, my Storytelling for Grant Writers book and the dreaded proposal. I picked it up and read the first question:
"Describe the youth development program—connect design and impact (qualifications of staff; structure; youth leadership; impact)"
I didn't read the draft answer, but instead thought. And then, the words came. (I'm gonna get metaphorical here, so just bear with me.) They flowed like a gurgling creek and then rushed like raging river. They poured out in abundance like an Arizona monsoon. Word after word, sentence after sentence.
I was interrupted by the sound of the boiling water in my coffee pot and stopped to reflect. It was better. It was good. It was fundable! I brewed a cup of coffee and read the next question, again, not reading the drafted answer. As I continued to write well into the 6:00 hour I realized I did know our programs. I was qualified to write this. And write it I did! I was on FIRE! I wrote and wrote and wrote until the children woke up and destroyed all peace and serenity but by then I had gotten through most of the questions. And it was only Saturday morning!
I put the proposal aside for the rest of the weekend, feeling accomplished and satisfied with my work. I still had plenty of time for reading and plenty of coffee to get me through the rough nights of sleeping. When we left on Sunday, I decided that I should be allowed to write this trip off as an unreimbursed business expense and declared that whenever I have a proposal to write, I shall retreat to the wilderness and once again find my muse in the nearby streams and trees, which will no doubt be waiting for me when next we return.
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