A mid-week adventure: don’t sweat the small stuff

Afternoon view of Bartlett Lake

We did it! We drove up to the lake after my husband finished work last week. I packed a picnic dinner of chips, sliced peppers, cauliflower and dip, fried chicken, coleslaw, spinach pasta salad and fresh strawberries. After discovering Bartlett Lake on Memorial Weekend, we made a deal that we’d head back up during the week when it would be less crowded.

It’s unbelievable how quick the drive was through the Tonto National Forest. There aren’t any trees so I’m not sure why it’s called a forest. But, it’s breathtaking all the same. Once at the lake, we headed for a campground we discovered where you can park your car on the shoreline. We were thrilled to see only five other vehicles there. On Memorial Weekend there were hundreds. We picked a nice empty area and set up our pop-up tent and chairs.

My husband immediately dove into the lake for a swim. I was getting myself ready when the pop-up tent got hit with a gust of wind and it cartwheeled into the lake. I was yelling for my husband, but he had his head in the water and didn’t hear me. I ran into the lake and grabbed a leg of the pop-up tent before it sank.

I was furious. I had asked my husband if we should bring the weights for the pop-up, or buckets to fill with water to tie it down. But no. We couldn’t find the weights that came with the tent. We might have left those in the RV that finally sold last month back in California. He thought a few rocks to anchor it would work. It did not.

My husband surfaced and saw me clambering after the pop-up. He joined me and we dragged it out of the lake onto the rocky beach. The pop up was obviously beyond repair as it laid with broken legs poking out at uncomfortable angles.

Now we had no shade for our dinner and it was 101 degrees. My husband implored me to swim with him and not let the broken pop up ruin our evening. After floating in the lake, my anger swam away.

We enjoyed the view from our chairs with our feet in the water. We snacked on the peppers and cauliflower and had a pleasant time. My husband said he’d tie the pop-up to the back bumper of the car and we could haul it up to the dumpster several hundreds yards away up the hill.

“No, we can do this.” I jumped up and started dragging the fractured tent to the dumpster. We got it there in a matter of minutes.

Sitting next to the dumpster were three other broken tents. On top of the dumpster heap, I counted another four. Who knows how many were inside buried from sight. We weren’t the only unprepared idiots. Next time we’ll be more prepared.

I think this was a lesson for me to relax and not sweat the small stuff. Material things are just that. Material things.