s'more-less

My husband and I decided to have one last vacation before school started. One of the many adventures of our two week vacation was to camp for a night in Zion's National Park. We were staying with my husband's grandparents for the week but took one night to camp in the great out doors.

We got to our site kinda late and decided to make s'mores and call it a night. But as we were setting up, my husband called out, "Honey, where are the marshmallows?" Pretty sure I had seen them as I was packing, I claimed that they were in our bag. However, as we continued to search all our stuff, no marshmallows turned up. So it was either stay put s'more-less or head back to the house to get them.

Seriously, who ever wants to be s'more-less?

We didn't bring our car into the park so we had to brainstorm on how to get back to his grandparents. I knew there was a shuttle that went into town that passed by his grandparent's house. We headed over to the Visitor's Center in hopes that it wasn't too late to catch one. We got to a shuttle station and asked the driver if he went into town. He kindly redirected us to the other shuttle station....the one that went into town and not up the canyon. So as it was getting darker, we headed to the other station.

Once we got to the station, we waited for the next available shuttle with a few other folks. It arrived and we asked how late the shuttles ran and if we would be able to get back into the park. The shuttle driver assured us that we would be fine....if we hurried. Determined to get our s'mores, we climbed aboard and enjoyed our ride through town.

The shuttle arrived at it's farthest destination. We described the house to the driver only to hear the words, "Oh the West's!" She not only knew them, but was kind enough to drop us off in front of their driveway. We thanked her and ran inside. And of course, once we were inside, there were the marshmallows, sitting on the bed, where I had left them, as I was packing.

Relieved to find them, we grabbed the marshmallows, headed out the door, and giggled all the way back to the shuttle stop where we waited patiently with a bat for the shuttle to pick us up....It almost missed us. The street light decided to go out leaving us in darkness. Thankfully we were seen last minute. We hopped on and enjoyed the ride back into the park.

Walking back to our campsite, we talked of yummy s'mores and how this tiny, fun adventure would all be worth it. We weren't allowed to have fires so we were using our camper stove to roast our 'mallows. We started setting up our camper stove and the ingredients. It was only then that I heard the devastating words:

"Honey, where is the propane tank?"

I gave up. Even though I searched the tent for at least five minutes, I just knew it was back at the house, sitting on the bed, where I had left it, as I was packing. I felt like I had failed; we were going to be s'more-less. And the shuttles would be done in less than a half hour....not enough time to run back again. My husband did the best he could to cheer me up with words but nothing worked. Finally, he sat me down, put a marshmallow on a stick, lit a match on his zipper (which I didn't even know was possible), and toasted it. Catching on and smiling a little, I pulled out the grahams and chocolate. We each had one and enjoyed our s'mores under the starlit night.

S'more-less no more.