Three Me Camp Best Practices I Plan to Duplicate in Normal Life

This magic belongs in daily rotation, and there is no reason at all it can’t.

Two years ago, the entire King clan took a family ski trip to Angel Fire. We caravaned out there between three Infiniti QX80s (we have a family aesthetic) and one Buick, every car loaded to the brim with suitcases, children, and snacks. Met in a parking lot at 6:00 a.m. to leave, and you could have felt our energy from three states away. We’d been planning this trip for two years. We’d mapped our route. Planned our stops. Loaded our playlists. We appointed the fastest driver as the lead pace car. Requisite honking of the horns as we pulled out.

Vibes were high.

We went on to have a spectacular trip, of course. My family is nothing if not a good time. The nephews tore up the slopes. My kids basically never came in until the lifts were closed. I skied with my bigs because I’ve still got it. Huge family meals every night. Tyler made us laugh endlessly. Games and cards and VR headsets. Favorite movies with the fireplace crackling.

Then we documented the long drive home with the same enthusiasm.

Just kidding. There are zero pics of the trip back. In my photo album, we were in New Mexico literally skiing, then the next picture was me in my Texas kitchen holding ice cream (current me has no idea why I took that). The returning vibes were less “here we go!” and more “let’s just get the hell home.”

I’ve always had a theory about re-entry, and that theory is that it sucks. The good times are over, and it’s back to breadwinning, bills, and bullshit. It is a feast or famine mentality that only delivers pure delight outside the parameters of normal life. We suspend ordinary responsibilities and get to indulge in play and connection. These joys are located somewhere else, and when we get back home, they evaporate. It was fun while it lasted, but now I guess I’ll log into this Zoom meeting.

I’ve been reevaluating my theory as I head home from Me Camp in a few days. I’m reworking the thesis. If “the good life” only exists away from the one we live every day, that is a very flawed premise. I’m not trying to be unrealistic, because obviously vacations or sabbaticals or adventures take us outside our normal rhythms, but I find myself asking what good parts can get on the plane and fly home with me. What did I learn in July that I want to remain in October? What Me Camp rituals can survive the calendar and laundry back home?

Well, let me first identify the best trends. I obviously cannot wake up to a lake view at home, so some of the experience won’t transfer. Parts of every vacation or adventure won’t transfer, but that doesn’t mean nothing will. If I can’t take back 70-degree summer weather, what can I bring?

This exercise took me a minute, but I found some Me Camp principles that could transfer if I took them seriously in Texas: