August 2002. Keith made his third visit to see me in the States and wanted to ‘go somewhere.’ Camping was mentioned and I acquiesced, in the way that you do when you’re courting.

I’m not sure I’d call the resulting trip a success, at least not in terms of the camping. I’m not much of an outdoors girl. Ok, I actively dislike the woods. But for him, I tried. I didn’t have any camping equipment (why would I?) so I booked a night at one of the mini-cabins they have for rent at the State Park. I rounded up sleeping bags, an air mattress, a cooler, a lantern, and folding chairs. I also spent $7 on a cast iron frying pan.

The word cabin conjured up a misleading picture in Keith’s head. He imagined fireplaces and antlers and rustic furniture. The reality was essentially a plywood box with a window and a screen door. But we gamely kept on the plan.

I fought with the lantern and eventually won. Keith built a fire large enough to be seen from space. We burnt some hot dogs to a crisp, drank vodka out of a soda bottle and watched the woods go dark. Racoons (vermin!) came out to greet us. I freaked, Keith wanted to talk to them. Rabies! Have you never heard of rabies?!

We went inside for bed. After the final lights out, Keith rolled over and fell asleep. I did not. Honey, I hear scratching. Honey, wake up – are there mice in here? Honey! check to see if there’s something out there! SPIDERS!!! [I told you I'm not good at camping.] But morning eventually came around and we made breakfast over a second enormous bonfire.

We put the bacon in the pan and the pan over the fire. The fire was so hot, it all went so quickly. The scrambled eggs were essentially deep-fried in bacon grease. They looked hella ugly, but tasted fantastic.

Since then, I’ve been using that pan pretty much exclusively for our occasional bacon and eggs. The bacon stuck something fierce at the outset and there were always eggy bits left on the bottom. But I’ve been dutifully washing, drying and oiling it, every time, and I think of our silly camping trip, every time, too.

Yesterday, I made eggs and bacon with the camping pan. It has a near-perfect finish now. Eggs don’t stick and it cleans up easily with just a little warm water. I’m not sure whether our relationship is quite as well-tempered as the pan, but it’s getting there. Troubles rarely stick, and those that do seem to be pretty easy to wash away. Not a bad place to be after just a year of marriage.

Happy anniversary, baby. I love you.