Think of it like... camping.

A couple of weeks ago I introduced you to our little cottage, our "Casita Segunda Luna de Miel." Long name I know, but it means second honeymoon cottage in Spanish, and we typically just refer to it as the "Casita." I told you that it's small and altogether delightful, which it is... and we love it here. However, it is not without its challenges in hosting our rather large family.

One of the reasons, the biggest reason actually, for my hesitance in moving over here was the fact that this little 897 square foot home has only two bedrooms. We have four grown children, all married, and three grandsons at present. This place is perfect, absolutely perfect for Tom and me. It is the place where we get to reconnect with who we are as a couple and why we wanted to begin this journey together almost thirty-six years ago. We started out just the two of us, and we're ending up just the two of us. We've come full circle, and life has been good... so good. God's blessings of children and grandchildren have enriched our days in ways too grand to adequately tell. We love having the gang all together here for special celebrations and such. I never wanted that to be compromised with the move, but it has taken some real creativity and injenuity to pull it off.

Three of our children live out of town, so when they all come in at the same time, it's, how- shall-we-say... a little "tight." Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

The first purchase I made for this place in outfitting it for a crowd, was Turkish towels for everyone. You might think it odd that towels were the first thing that came to mind in hosting our crew, but with bathroom space at a premium, it's a luxury to have your own towel hanging on your own hook in the hallway. These babies are made from long-fiber cotton, dry super fast, and look like over-sized shawls with fringe edging. They are compact, lightweight, and, oh-so-chic... even hanging en masse along the wall.

With the towel situation well in hand, it was time to address the sleeping accommodations. The front and only guest bedroom houses two twin beds. I know. I know. Not the most practical for a married couple, but hear me out. When the grandkids come to spend the night, it works quite well, as it would if and when Tom's two sisters come into town. The beds can be pushed together upon request making a king-sized for our married kids. There's even enough room left over for a port-a-crib in there too. Sweet.

Our living room couch is a sleeper sofa. The couch itself is at least twenty-five years old, but, hey... it's really comfortable, and the pull-out has a relatively cushy, queen-sized inner-spring mattress that's only been used a handful of times... so... winning! That takes care of two out of the three families that might have to stay overnight. What do we do with the third? Why, I'm so glad you asked! You see, we have a totally morphable dining room. Yep. This is my proudest achievement. Our dining room table is actually two Ikea gateleg tables pushed together. Each of the two has one leaf folded down and backed up to the other. This arrangenment gives us a table for six that can be pulled apart, leaves lifted, to seat anywhere fron eight to twelve. We just scooch into the living room a bit to make it fit.

Our dining chairs are little, cherry red, Tolix-style, metal chairs that can be stacked out of the way and even set outside in the elements if need be, to make room for bedroom number four! That's right! Those two Ikea tables also fold completely down to a depth of approximately eleven inches. We can push them up against the long wall of the dining room and have just enough space to fit a standard height, queen-sized air mattress. For privacy, we've installed a row of hooks above the two doorways for drop cloth curtains to be hung when the need arises.

As a bonus, we now have a ten by twelve shed in the backyard, my She Shed, that's been painted, has electrical installed, and has a small A/C and heating unit in the wall. It's for overflow... or for a rather unique "glamping" experience, if you'd prefer. This past Christmas, Mark, Laura, Flint, and Wade stayed out there. We fit the queen-sized air mattress, port-a-crib, and sleeping pad all in there for our special COVID, social distancing considerations.

It's not the Ritz, that's for sure, but it's home, it's welcoming, and it's a happy place to be, if I do say so myself. In fact, I've started telling my kids to think of their stay here at our little casita as more of a camping adventure.

Recently I came across some information on a camp in Elkhorn, Wisconsin: Camp Wandawega. I was fascinated with this place, mostly for the way in which they described both their accommodations and their camping philosophy. I'll share a bit of it here with you, and I don't doubt you'll be laughing as much as I was the first time I read their "Manifesto of Low-Expectations," which they advise all to read thoroughly before booking.

*There are some mighty handy tips in here to keep in mind for camping Chez "Casita" as well!

Camp Wandawega: "We're not a proper resort by a long shot. We're just carrying on the timeless tradition of connecting people to simple pleasures of simpler times. Our 'no-frills' vibe is part of our charm, but it's not for everyone."

"By 'vintage' we mean old and unimproved. This is not a modern luxe joint designed to look old: it's just plain old. That's the way we like it. Expect ladybugs on your pillow, a cricket if you're lucky, the errant chipmunk doing laps around your cabin."

"Lumpy mattresses: 80 year old squeaky bed frames topped with 10-thread count sheets. Camp showers: old-school, scout camp, concrete floor-partial open air kind of things. Be prepared to share with toads. They were there first."

"We are not for the meek, squeamish, or any other synonym for folks who don't like roughing it."

I was laughing so hard by the time I finished reading the whole thing that I was crying. Yeps, that about says it all, doesn't it?!

When you're camping, the accommodations are always a bit tight, whether in a tent or a camper... or a tipi at Camp Wandawega.

That's not the point.

When you're camping, you might have to eat your food (which always manages to taste delicious cooked over a fire and consumed in the fresh air) off a plate perched precariously on your lap.

That's not the point.

When you're camping, you have to share communal bathrooms and showers. We don't have toads. Just sayin'.

But that's not the point either.

When you're camping, it's about the experience. It's about the fellowship, the togetherness. It's about leaving all the more traditional vacation trappings behind and relishing the feel of the unconventional, savoring the moment. Laughter. Conversation... deep into the night. It's its own kind of magic.

It can't be replaced by anything too comfortable or too civilized. It's rustic and real, and also altogether delightful.

So, yes, let's embrace the time spent here in this little place, this little casita, with it's squeaky bed frames and its communal bathroom. Let's think of it like... camping. Glorious. Wonderful. Camping.

It is my sincerest hope that one day, after Tom and I are long gone to glory, our grandchildren will sit around a campfire somewhere and reminisce about their days spent at Big Mama and Big Daddy's little house. I hope they laugh about being squeezed together like sardines. I hope they remember the food and the fun, the laughter and the conversation. Most of all I hope they talk about how all that togetherness helped them become more than cousins, how it helped them become good friends.

It isn't the place.

It's never the place or the accommodations.

The things most precious to us, the things best cemented in our memories...

are the people...

and the time we get to spend with them.

Happy Camping, Y'all!