Thank You Forgetful Girl and I LoveThe Queen Mary

I am not a good camper. For those who know me, this comes as no great shock.  I enjoyed camping as a small child clueless, as children often are, of the back breaking work involved.  Mother took care of everything, and the experience was consistent and comforting.  I watched my mother start packing vital food stores.  Hershey bars, marshmallows and graham crackers, among the most important, at least three weeks ahead of the annual trip.  As she finished filling each box or bag, it would go neatly in the entry hall, ready to go where the fun was.  She even had a special camping purse, with a first aid book published who knows when and a wonderful camping dress or two, one pale yellow and one mint green, packed away after each annual jaunt, to be taken out a year later for the next adventure.  (Mother never wore pants,)  She also had canvas Keds for the sole purpose of camping.  They were never worn at any other time, only camping.  It can't go without saying, wearing them even to the grocery store would be wholly inappropriate.  (Far too casual.)  I even have the enamel wash basin that washed both the dishes and me.  I hated to be dirty.  All that was expected from me was to have the time of my life.  Mom took care of the rest.

I tried camping once with my small children.  Packed it in after one night.  That was the end of that.  After that fiasco I was in eternal awe of my mother, and Denise Jones.  (shout out Denise if you ever happen to discover this obscure little blog.)

What, you ask, does any of this have to do with  Forgetful Girl and the Queen Mary?  Keep your panties on, I'm getting there.

The Queen Mary, as my enduring husband has dubbed her, is the fifth wheel camping trailer I am camping in at this moment, WI FI provided by the "camp ground".  He says it is the longest trailer in the entire world, and he hates hates hates, towing it.  But the love, that he is, does it for me.  I have a king size bed where ever I go fit for a queen.  (Satin trimmed blankets a necessary comfort.)

Forgetful Girl is my oldest daughter who is more scattered brained than I am.  (almost)  She forgets everything, loses everything, leaves Christmas gifts unused and at my house for years at a time.  Never ever has enough wipes or Desitin for my darling grand daughter Margaret ZuZu.  Yes ZuZu is her middle name.  Named after George Bailey's daughter in It's a Wonderful Life.  The reason being;  George finds ZuZu's crushed flower petals in his pocket, a reminder that no matter what trials or hard ships faced, family is what is worth living for.

So what do these two things have in common?  I'm getting to it.  Again, if you know me, the fact that I generally make short stories long rather than long stories short also comes as no great shock.

Two years ago we all took a trip in the "Queen Mary".  Knowing that FG (Forgetful Girl) gets that mad skill (forgetting) from me, I packed brand new baby outfits, burp cloths (never ever had one in the diaper bag) and of course wipes and the ever absent Desitin.  We were set.

Embarrassing as it is to admit, that was the last time we cruised the "Queen Mary".  As I explained earlier, Hubby hates to tow it.

Well here we are cruising the ocean of highway to my son's horse competition.  Darling hubby captaining the ship.

We arrive at the dock, get Her Majesty set up.  Push outs pushed out , bed made (satin trimmed blanket in place.  (crucial) . I take a satisfied look around my cruise ship on wheels, (not bragging, simply mocking my admittedly ridiculous requirements) and there it is, everything I had packed for Margaret, still brand new, still packed, in the middle of the trailer floor, forgotten.

A natural first thought might be one of exasperation over money wasted on brand new out grown items.  Again, those who know me are not shocked to here wasted money almost never enters my mind.  All money is to me are lovely sheets of green paper, or a truly spectacular array of designs one can choose to put on a shiny plastic card.  The bank just gives them out!  Hard to believe, I know, but it is the absolute truth.  (We can talk about financial consequences later. This is a happy post.)

Since none of the above entered my mind, I went through the basket full of tiny baby treasures.  Breathed it all in, and relived a moment.  Not a common occurrence.  Luckily I have FG and she had generously given the moment back.  That trip little Margaret belonged only to me.  We stayed, played and cuddled together on board our luxury liner, while everyone else went out to have "fun".  I smelled her new baby perfume,  better than any bottle of Chanel No. 5, and cooed her new baby coos.  Just Gammie and ZuZu.

Little tiny, nearly newborn,  Margaret ZuZu and Gammie were the ones having fun.  I got to relive it tonight.  Thank you my dear Forgetful Girl.

Until next time...