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Lucy Luginbill is a freelance writer and regional television producer involved in projects distributed nationally to Christian bookstores. A breast cancer survivor, she resides in Kennewick with her husband Bill. They have two married daughters and six grandchildren. Two dogs and one cat fill the "empty nest."


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Published Tuesday, Sep. 07, 2010

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Bumblin', stumbling in the dark

COEUR D'ALENE, Idaho — I’ve never thought I was the sharpest blade in the drawer.

On the other hand, I did think that I had more of an edge than a plastic picnic knife.

Our camping trip this past week has set me to wondering.

We chose a campground above Lake Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, that would have the flavor of the outdoors — tall pine trees, chipmunks dashing about and a resident blue jay. But it would also have amenities such as hook-ups for the tent-trailer, a playground for the grandkids and nearby restrooms.

“This is great!” my daughter, Tiffany, commented as she returned from a stroll with the little ones. “There’s even a roomy shower at the end of the building by the bathrooms.”

I glanced at the path from where she’d just come. Through the trees, a huge door at the base of the building stood prominently. It would definitely be my destination before bedtime. If there was one thing I was astute about, it was the joy of six campers in one tent using Dial soap.

Before long, night descended. Skewered hot dogs barbecued over the open fire; s ‘mores melted in our mouths. Within a short time, the dinner dishes were washed and the children in bed.

At last, it was time for my shower.

In the darkness I walked toward the building where lights on the upper level blazed a welcome. But below in the shadows, I searched for the trail to the door I’d seen earlier. From what I could see in the gloom, it appeared as if you’d have to step up over a pile of jagged rocks to reach it.

“This must be what they call ‘roughing it’, ” I thought to myself as I turned back toward camp. If taking a shower was this difficult, it could wait until morning.

At fireside, I was greeted with a chorus of surprised voices asking why I was back so soon. I explained how I’d stumbled around in the dark and gave up.

“Mom!” Tiffany howled with laughter, her words coming in stifled gasps. “The shower is up on top at the end of the row of bathrooms, not that big door in the basement!”

My used razor-sharp mind wrapped around it.

OK. So I don’t know a shower from a storage room. But at least when I’m around, there’s never a dull moment.

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