Friends picked us up in their car. We bought groceries, firewood, and displayed restraint and did not visit the book sale happening in the little quaint town. Off to the state park! Without a sign or my knowledge, we'd crossed state lines into Connecticut at some point in our 10-minute drive.
Frisbee golf was our first activity. I'd never played before, and everyone kept recommending that I throw "as if I were starting a lawnmower," and then we'd all laugh, since I've obviously never once used a lawnmower, except when dancing terribly, and even then, I usually prefer the shopping cart. City kid!
The sheer volume of stuff the five of us brought was amazing. We had three grills. An inflatable box for washing dishes. Four coolers worth of food. A keg, leftover from someone's 4th of July party. A tote full of frisbees, cornhole, tikki torches. A wizard-style canopy tent. Five chairs; two tables.
As a friend said, camping is essentially like moving apartments, but winding up in the great outdoors at the end.
Never have eggs tasted so amazing. Never. So good I had to take two pictures. J and I had the NYC-sized tent -- and there was no real glamping for us. We slept on sleeping bags and our old quilt. (I'm proud, but also really jealous of the blow-up mattresses other people brought.)