Books and Movies, Camp, Musings, Poet Among Other Things

Filling Journals

I’ve had journals since– I don’t remember not having journals. Sure, the entries were about 20 words long and illustrated because I couldn’t read for so long, but I had things to say, even when I couldn’t articulate, let alone spell them. I look back on some of those rudimentary scribblings and laugh. If they weren’t so old they’d be embarrassing. e678b832b693eac8bcb557b690cce3d8But even though I couldn’t write down how I really felt, and often didn’t actually know, I wrote enough to trigger memories. There’s one journal that Dad gave me around the time he was deployed overseas. It’s just about the ugliest shade of green, that one that is evidently the only dye color the military has, so I quickly took my crayons to it and made it mine. Our basement flooded a few years ago and it was barely saved. But on one of the pages, that has been threatening to fall out for years now, are a few words about how my day was ruined because Wendy’s messed up my baked potato, complete with a picture of how the spud should have looked. I remember that day. We had just been visiting one of mom’s friends and I was overwhelmed with the cares of being 9. It was the last straw. Either mom was pregnant with Adam or Dad had just left, but I was an emotional wreck and I couldn’t show it, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t draw, and now my lunch was a travesty.

I have another journal that my then best friend’s mom gave me. It has a picture of us in the front. Little, tiny, 7 year old us. This one is blue with vines, a picture window on the cover and a ribbon bookmark with a heart lock charm on the end. The one that I simply cannot remember not having is my Winnie the Pooh locking diary.

I used those two off and on the most, since the military surplus one was ruined, but I’ve yet to fill a journal. I’ve filled plenty of random notebooks with sketches of rooms and beginnings of stories, but I’ve never written my soul from cover to cover. That’s what a journal is. The soul on paper. Whether it means what it says or is just a symptom of the true condition is for the reader, usually your older self, to decide.

But that trend is about to change. 4980f05fdb74af85e118941df03bd15f

I have six pages left. I really don’t know what to do with myself. It feels as if my filling of that last page will end something in my life. I got this journal 2 years ago when I was a finalist in the library’s poetry contest. It was the year that Meg was also a finalist and Claire was the Honorable Mention. I didn’t win anything, but it was my last year of eligibility. I graduated high school right after that, and then started writing in the little book at Camp that summer. Only first few pages actually bare the thoughts of a baby counselor, as I quickly got too busy to write. Instead, it chronicles the heartache of a life turned rightside up. Learning to accept my PCOS, giving myself permission to live, embracing my gifts. It’s all in there. It hurts to go back and read who I thought I had to be. But the closer I get to the end, the less it hurts and the more it is beautiful. Most of my “poems” are actually journal entries, written as I’m falling asleep. They are raw Annie. What she sees with her eyes, but also with her heart. Moonshadows. Will-o-the-wisps. Dew laden blades of grass.

The closing of my little book coincides with the closing of my first semester of college. I never thought I’d go to school past what was required. I had no need to. I began the journal feeling broken and purposeless. I close it happier, more full of life, and whole. You don’t come through a chapter like that without scars. But scars fade. They remind you who you are.

Camp

Return of the Fire Breathing Pidgezilla, Part II

Seeing girls grow is one of the greatest things I have ever been a part of. One of my cabin girls started the week with red beads on her swimsuit,warning the lifeguards that she was a weak swimmer. She worked hard all week in swimming lessons. On Friday she ran into the cabin at the end of second activity and told me she had passed the swim test. I just about burst, I was so proud of her.

DSCF2112I taught nature to the Pathfinders by myself for the first time this year. I’ve assisted this class twice now, and it’s kind of included in my CILT majors. To be honest though, Grackle, the activities director, had more confidence in me than I did.

Pathfinders are seriously awesome. They are bouncy, fun-loving, and if you can win them over, you have a best friend. They also have had somewhere between 7 and 9 years to build up a huge capacity of energy. Sometimes we don’t have enough girls or enough classes for them to choose their activities. Sometimes nature is not an optional class. Most of the girls were fine with this, and probably would have taken nature anyway. Then in one of my classes, I DSCF2041only had one girl out of the four who didn’t scream bloody murder at some point.

One day near the end of week two, as we were walking through the woods I had an idea, and it was kind of the theme for my whole time at camp. One of the girls said “I’m not going any further. This is outside of my comfort zone. I have boundaries.” At the beginning of camp I felt exactly the same way. But then I realised, ” Comfort zones are like muscles. When you exercise a muscle, the fibers break, but they grow back. The new tissue takes up more room, and your muscles get bigger. Comfort zones are like that too. You break them a little bit, and they grow back bigger.” This was mostly over their heads, and I’m not sure how scientifically accurate it is, but a couple of them were begging me to go “just a little” further down the trail, so I didn’t have a chance to explain further. They still screamed every now and again, but even the squealers were much deeper in the woods than they had ever been before. Sometimes I still employed trick I figured out. Start belting ‘Love is an Open Door’ and they will stop whatever they are doing and join you. Dance along with it? You’ve got full on celebrity status and a herd of very short groupies. By the end of the week, this was mostly just for fun.

The campers weren’t the only girls stretching their comfort zones. You know what though? The more room you have, the more fun you can have. You know what else? I’m done telling God “I’m not going any further. This is outside of my comfort zone. I have boundaries.” In fact– take me deeper into the woods.

Camp

Return of the Fire Breathing Pidgezilla, Part I

I’ll be honest, I’ve not had an easy time putting together this post. I’m not sure what it is, but camp was hard this year. Everything about it. I’ve started and restarted writing about it half a dozen times. By the facts everything went DSCF1975swimmingly. But for some reason, I’m having a really hard time putting together a coherent post about it.

First I wouldn’t miss camp for the world, then I was ok with missing a week, then I wasn’t planning on going at all. Then my plans fell through, a date was wrong, and I didn’t get the job. I was confused. How did I go from adamant about going to not even planning to go to camp? Maybe I’ve grown? I don’t know, really. I think perhaps camp had been a kind of crutch. I’m really not sure how to describe it. I’m learning that I am incredibly loyal, to the point of blindness. Don’t get me wrong, camp is a great thing, but I think I had become so loyal to NeKaMo that I was potentially missing other opportunities. When I opened myself up to other ideas, it kind of threw me off. Funny how that works.

When it came time to pack, I was such an emotional wreck that once I got my stuff together I just laid on my bed and cried for a couple of hours before finally falling asleep. The drive down to Truman Lake with a friend was fun, and relaxed me quite a bit, but I was still tense. Actually, I spent a lot of time over the two weeks in some state of stressed. But it was a really beautiful time too. One night, after doing something that some would consider– eh-hem– rule bendy, I came back to the cabin, where my girls had been asleep for hours, and wrote.

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Full of laughter and joy
 
A night when they burbled
And spilled over
And rained down
 
A night when the moon hid her face
When she turned a blind eye
And let the small ones have their fun
And they danced with joy
And had their frolic
 
Their joy drifted down
Falling on heads uplifted
Watching their dance
Drinking their joy
Words were made for nights like these

DSCF2062One afternoon I sat with Robin during free time while she worked on something in the rec hall. She asked “How ya doin’ Pidge?” in her usual perky, but incredibly sincere, Robinish way and I thought about it for a moment before simply answering, “Happy.” Yes, I was stressed a lot of the time, but I wasn’t just thinking of at camp. In general, I’m happier than I was last time I talked to her.
Robin and I seem to have a way of surprising each other every time we talk. This time it was her turn.  “I can tell. You aren’t as mopy as you were last year.” I thought I was going to be the one shocking her. I didn’t feel mopy last year, and I did this year. I also didn’t think she would remember much about me from last year. I’ve been finding out that people actually do remember me a lot more often than I thought they did.

How did I get yet another nickname? What happens when you throw Pigeon and a handful of squeally, panicky, Pathfinders on a nature trail? Who is worse about staying on task, Pigeon, or a camper? These questions an more answered in the next addition of  “Return of the Fire Breathing Pidgezilla!”

Actions in Activities, Camp, Musings

Staying Home After Highschool

Yes, I’m back from camp, and yes, a post about that is forthcoming. But for now, something is on my mind.

I graduated highschool last spring. Instead of going straight to college as per the popular course, I stayed home. While this isn’t unheard of, it still isn’t common. Most people I knew started at least taking courses at a community college, and a lot of them were moving away. I’ve had a  lot of people tell me it’s a good idea to stay home, or that they wish they had taken a break.

When I was technically “in school” I never really did a ton of book work. I learned from reading and by osmosis for the most part (we call it hippieschool). You would think, being that laid back to begin witfireworksh, it wouldn’t be a big deal to not do school at all. But, I had activities. I did Debate and Bible Quiz. Most of my time was spent in fly-on-the-wall mode, but I saw people and did things. Even though I was never much of a part of the action, this past year has been the loneliest one of my life.

But my loneliness hasn’t been solely because of lack of activities. We also changed churches last summer. I left friends behind there. A few times I tried getting together with them outside of church, but I ran into a problem. I’ve changed. I’m not the same person that they hung out with last year. I’ve tried getting involved with our new church, but I just don’t exactly fit in.

It probably sounds like I’ve had a fairly miserable year. Right and wrong. I probably have cried more in this past year than the rest of my previous years combined. But I learned so much about myself, and about my writing, and about the world, and about God that I wouldn’t trade that year for anything. It was the year I learned to Let It Go. I have figured out what I want to do, at least for the next few years, and it is totally different from what I had planned before (even though, in retrospect, it is something I’ve wanted to do since I was about 9 years old).

I don’t regret staying home, but it wasn’t like I thought it would be. So, if you are considering taking the year off, go for it. But, don’t just not do school. Write. Create. Think. Do things. Learn what you want to learn. It isn’t easy. You won’t  be the same person you were when you graduated. You will be much more of a person though. I’m a lot happier one.

Camp, Poet Among Other Things, Short

Flying the Thread

I am getting ready to head to NeKaMo Camp for 2 weeks, so I haven’t had much chance to write. Since I don’t want to abandon my lovely little blog completely, I present for your reading enjoyment, Flying the Thread.

 

Mists rise from the cool, lapping water

The air is still

Yet the vapors dance among the reeds

Like slender forms

Like the spirits of vessels gone by

They drift ashore and lick my feet

The cold enters through my toes

It trickles up my spine

The wisps dance and twirl around me

The cool moistness overtakes my body

I become like the wisps

Lost in their eddies

Twirling in whiteness

Moving without effort

Never touching

Yet in one mass

Passing through each other

We fly over the grass

Droplets slide down the blades

Movement so fast and fluid

Neither water nor air

Cold but full of life

I leap from drooping flower head to drooping  flower head

Faster and faster

Further and further

Until I don’t need to land

I soar above the trees

I dive down into their green blackness

Weaving between sleeping leaves

Leaving in my wake shimmers of water

I dive faster

Skimming across the surface

Flying with the fireflies

The twinkle like the stars above

We dance and sparkle

I begin to shine

Though the tall, dry grasses

Like a star fallen to earth

I float high

Higher than the flies around me

Towards the darkness above

Joining the stars in their patterns of light

Shining brighter than the fire I left behind

Swimming through clouds of pure color

Twinkling, swirling, shining

We waltz together to soundless music

I look back on everywhere I’ve been

A pattern of water and fire and light

Like a single strand of brilliant thread

Connecting worlds so different

Yet they fit together

Like a puzzle scattered on a table

Some parts similar, many scattered

The thread ties them all together

And a Beautiful painting emerges

Camp, Farm and Family, Pictures

Beautiful, Bald, Baby Sister

Sixteen years ago I my life changed forever. My little Meglet joined the family. My incredibly comfortable life as an only child came to an end. I had no idea what it meant to be a big sister, in fact, I only recently have been learning what it really means.007

It has been amazing watching Megatron this past year. This practically bald three year old has become such a powerful young lady. She’s always been more of a lady than I am. She liked pink, horses, playing house and girly stuff like that. I liked climbing trees, making mud holes, playing surgeon, hiking, and wrestling. I dragged her along and she learned to like my stuff too, but she’s always added a touch of flowers and sparkle (we seriously were the Powerpuff Girls, even though mom wouldn’t let us watch the show).006

I was quite happy being an only child, and I did my best to get rid of her when we were little (subconsciously of course). As she was learning to walk, I used any opportunity to make her fall on her face. Mom was pretty sure that her 4 year old was going to be a convicted criminal (hasn’t happened yet…). When she was about 4, I covered her in mud from head to toe. And, not just a light coating, I caked her in mud. Oh, by the way, I think it was maybe March or something? It was cold outside. I guess it was when I was around 8 years old that I accepted that she was here for good. That’s when all our best stories are from. When we started working together to create our mischief.

Megara has always learned faster than me. When I was 7 years old and struggling to learn how to ride a bike, she stole my bike and rode away. She is the only one of my siblings that I didn’t teach how to ride a bike. She learned to read pretty much at the same time as I did. She watches me do something and fail, takes notes and then does the thing better than I ever could. That’s how it’s always been. Meg can do pretty much anything extremely well. She gets frustrated if it doesn’t work after 2 tries. This drives me crazy. If I get it within 2 tries, I’m shocked, and it probably was just a fluke.008

This summer at camp I was so proud of my baby sister. Her counselor and DD, both ladies that I love and look up to, would talk about her. They told about how she was helping the other girls in her cabin and how she was so mature. Every single time I heard them talking about her I started crying. My little Meg, blossoming into such a leader. I just can’t help but think of how fantastic she is going to be as a CILT and then on staff at camp.

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I love you my creative sister.

Megan, Megara, Megatron, Meglet, and most of all, Meg.

Actions in Activities, Camp, Musings, Pictures

That Will Suffice

Sunday they had a Summer Missions ice-cream social at church. I didn’t get to share anything, we started going to this church right after camp, but there were several people who spoke about their time at one camp or another.

There was a lot of the normal “what was the highlight of your time there?”, but there was also a good bit of “what did you learn?”. You may remember my five part series, “Re-assimilating“, about my first time as a counselor at Camp NeKaMo. It was really cool to hear all that God did this Summer.

This got me thinking, what did I learn? I mean, I wrote about what happened and about the adjustment of going from camper to counselor, but what did I learn this Summer, not just at camp, but when we got home and got our sleeping bags hung up?

Even before my two weeks as a counselor began, I was feeling overwhelmed. My lifeguard training is a more obvious example of what I was learning in subtle ways the whole time. I am not sufficient on my own.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I can’t do anything on my own.

Everyday, up early to go to Bible Study, full steam ahead all day long, and then try to get to sleep before midnight. It was exhausting. By the end of week one I was so tired I couldn’t think straight (and I have enough trouble with that anyway 😉 ). But, it was so rewarding to pour love into those girls and I feel so blessed to have gotten to be a part of their lives. I had to lean on the Lord. I’m not very confident in my teaching abilities, and I have a hard time praying out loud in front of people.  It was a really stretching 2 weeks.

After camp was over I was trying to find a job. I was pretty much broke and there were no babysitting calls. I never did find one, not even at McDonalds or Taco Bell. Quiz came around. We were talking about goals for the season. I really want to go to Nationals this year. It’s my very last year as a quizzer and I’d like to go out with a bang. I started praying that God would get me to Nationals. I didn’t know how He was going to do it, but the best way I could think of was to give me a job.

I was lying on my bed one night after a long day of babysitting and running errands when I realized something. It was only a couple weeks after I started praying to go to Nationals that I got my steady childcare jobs. As I was trying to fall asleep, it struck me. God gave me a job. It was so amazing to see God answer a prayer in such an obvious way, and so quickly. It really gives me chills. God is so powerful. He listens to us. He loves us.

Me and my Squishy! This picture doesn’t really have much to do with the rest of the post, but I love it. Josh is living proof that God does amazing things. 🙂

My God is so big, so strong and so mighty. There’s nothing my God cannot do.

Actions in Activities, Camp, Musings

I Think She’s Trying to Speak To Me

You may not know this about me, or maybe it’s so ingrained in my being that I do it here too, but I’m kind of known for my strange metaphors and correlations, and very creative and abstract imagery. I find links in things that, I’m told, make people’s heads hurt. 

One night at camp we were having Divisional Campfire. Banty was telling the story of Joseph. She asked the girls what kept him going. What gave him strength? Several girls piped up with answers that were good, but not quite what she was looking for. Banty was about to move on, but I noticed one of the girls was kind of sitting behind her and still had her hand up. I said “Faith has an answer!”

Banty has this face she makes when I say something weird. It’s like she can tell I’m serious, but she’s not sure what planet I’m from. I could tell it wasn’t registering, so I repeated myself and pointed. She finally translated my alien dialect and got the answer she was thinking of. The next day we were talking about it. Banty was one of my CILT instructors, so she’s seen me in a Bible study. She said “I know Annie says things that make me think sometimes, but I wasn’t getting this.” That is a good illustration of what I mean about strange phrasing. “Faith has an answer” would be something I would say! 

I did this again at Bible Quiz practice last week. We were having a time of sharing about things we’ve learned from our chapters. Several people shared about James 1. This wasn’t a surprise, it’s a great chapter and pretty much everyone has it memorized. They were all saying pretty much the same thing. If you have faith God will give you wisdom, or that we should be doers of the word and not just hearers. And then raised my hand.

The main thing I see in this chapter is the focus on our actions and reactions.

In the first half it is talking about testing and temptation. It is about exercising your faith muscle. Under trial you strengthen that muscle and it shows up as perseverance , and that strength helps you through temptation.

The second half is about not just looking at the plaque on the wall for it’s beauty, but actually doing what it says. Instead of just studying it and saying “My, what a beautiful piece of work. I wonder where the bathroom is?” actually following the directions on the sign and finding the restroom. 

This really made me think about how our actions and words affect everything. It made me think about being intentional in our words and deeds. Not being absentminded or careless. If we don’t do things on purpose we are just hearing the word. We are letting things just happen, we aren’t doing them. 

I shared this, in a slightly more rambling way and not in as many words. Everyone in the room got that same look. That “You’re really cute, but I don’t know what you’re saying!” look. I like to think I just dig, not necessarily deeper, but at a different angle, than most of the world. 

Last week Dad showed me something in his sermon notes that made me make the same face. He was using Greek letters and other symbols to make some sort of pictograph. I had no idea what he was doing, but at least I know I come by it honestly.

Camp, Pictures

Re-assimilating; Notes From a First Year Counselor, Part Five: the Weekend and the Week to Come

As it is written; If you have not clicked the link and read the posts you shall never understand the things to come.

Part One: Poisoned by Sol

Part Two: Return of the Ninjas

Part Three: Brand Spanking New

Part Four: The Very First Week

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Now, I know this is getting kind of long, so I’m going to try to sum up as best I can. It was such a superb fortnight! It’s hard to do it justice with so few words! I have so much to write about once I’m done with this series!DSCF0385

Last year was my first time staying the weekend. It was awesome, but I’ve come to a conclusion. If you are a camper staying both weeks, by all means stay! It’s a lot different and you can make some really great memories that you may not otherwise. Nemo Boy for instance (many will wonder, few will understand). As staff staying both weeks, just go home. It is hard to just rest and relax at camp (at least for me).DSCF0384

After the camp week was officially over, all the first week campers were gone and we had the cabin cleaned up, Mom and Dad came and took us all out to lunch. I had only been to town once before (last year) so I really didn’t understand what a big deal it was. Everybody said it was redneck, but I assumed they would call HV redneck as well. We only went to McDonalds and Walmart, but that was enough. I’m not sure we saw anyone who actually had all their teeth, and there were several people in flowered nighties. Wow. Well then.DSCF0381

We got back to camp and took a very long time saying goodbye. They helped us move our stuff to our new cabins and then left us there. 😦 At this point I pretty much wanted to come home. Oh well. Claire and I took our laundry over to the Taj. I had already had a run in with this washer.  It hates me. I’m usually really good with mechanical stuff and electronics. I can usually get things to do what I want them to do with little trouble. Notice how many “usually”s I just used. Yeah, this thing hates me. I had I think three people show me how to get it going. I still don’t know what they did differently. For what ever reason, it works for everyone else.

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Snow and I were co-counselors for the second week. This was super cool because she was in my CILT class! Over the weekend we spent most of our time working on laundry and prettying up the cabin. We took our theme from The Music Man and decorated it like a library. I wish I had gotten some pictures, all I have is a screen shot from one of the  videos we took. MPlibrarylibrary  That Madison Public Library sign took me so, stinkin’ long to paint. I got completely done and it was dry, and then I stood there, admiring my work, when I realized how I spelled Library. Libarary. Noooo!!! How to fix it. Cut and paste! I cut “Madison Public” and pasted it to a freshly painted Library. I’m not sure if you can tell from the picture, but we made a bookshelf and made little books with the girls names on them. I t turned out to be really awesome! All our girls had really literary names! Some of them were actually the titles of books! They were great Heroines. 🙂 I really love how the door turned out, I just wish we had more time to make it look more clean cut.DSCF0386

After all the girls got there it was time to sign up for activities. When we got there the girls had a big surprise. They had opened canoeing up to the Trailblazers. This doesn’t happen often. Canoeing is usually only for the older girls I think mainly because of the swim test. You have to tread water for 5 minutes in jeans and a t-shirt, take them off (swimsuit underneath of course) and then tread for 5 more minutes. Two girls in my cabin took the test, one of them ended up doing crafts instead of canoeing. I really admire her for trying, but then knowing her limits. It’s so hard sometimes. I know I’m not good at this. DSCF0387

It was a really awesome week. At the beginning of the week I was really nervous. There was no way week 2 could be as good as week 1.  It had to get worse. God was so good! IT was different, of course, but it was still amazing! I’m finally rested up, over a month later, but I’m so excited for next year! Meg will be a CILT I!! Oh! Something really cool! Snow and I (same class) have younger sisters who will both be in the same class! I’m seriously stoked about this upcoming CILT class. You guys are going to rock. 🙂

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A note about the pictures in this post: I know they have nothing at all to do with anything mentioned, they are just too cute to miss. Everyone got Mexican S’mores and enjoyed them so much I had to preserve the moment (good thing too as we didn’t get a cabin picture with Snow and me included 😦 I love the one we did get, it is such a great representation of the personalities!)

DSCF0335 Well, like everything here on this earth, this series must end. So I wish you farewell, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Camp, Pictures

Re-assimilating; Notes From a First Year Counselor, Part Four: The Very First Week

Today’s post will be a general summary of my first week as a counselor. If you haven’t read my previous posts, I would recommend doing so before proceeding.

Part One: Poisoned by Sol

Part Two:Return of the Ninjas

Part Three: Brand Spanking New

In part two I started telling about week one, but I just barely got through the girls arriving! Recap time!

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For week one I was Co-Counselor with Polly (mentioned before). We had 5 awesome girls who despite all oods 😉 meshed and congealed fabulously!

Back before camp started I signed up to do Vespers. I didn’t fully realize what that meant until I got to camp and no one else had signed up. I freaked out a little. I was so thankful when Flicker and Pippet  came along side and helped me! We also recruited some others to  help us out with various parts of the program.

Hang on though, what is Vespers? Vespers is sort of our “get-to-know-you” program. It often involves dressing your counselor up, a skit, a game of some sort, and/or a song. There is always a songfest and then a message. It is basically a fun kick off to the week.

Our theme for the week was “Time Machine”, so we worked around that. We had the girls dress their counselors up as a time traveler and her time machine. They were then to give a presentation and everyone else could guess when and where they were/just got back from. It was all kind of up in the air and disorganized, but it left room for a lot of creativity and the potential for tons of fun.

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One thing we forgot to plan was who was going to emcee… So that fell to me.

Part of CILT I is planning and leading vespers, so I should have been fine. But then there is the size of my class. There were 11 or 12 of us. There is a big difference between standing in a group of 11 and leading, and standing by yourself and leading.

The fantastic females of four wrapped me in gray wrapping paper and stuck buttons on me. We were running out of time, so we just taped the paper to my shirt. This was all fine and dandy for standing in, but when it came to walking, climbing stairs, sitting, and just moving in general, it was another matter. I was a robot without hinges. Oh! Can’t forget my marvelous antenna. I basically looked like a space age unicorn. This was fine with me. It was really fun to dress up and be goofy. I’m sure it was great fun to watch! 😀DSCF0206

We decorated the Trailblazer cabin with a space theme. This was an uncoordinated thing. We just both got there and started setting up and realized we both did the same thing! This picture is of the door to our cabin. You can’t really tell in the picture, but the buttons have our names on them. We did glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and planets for bed markers. The other Trailblazer cabin did a bunch of star charts and things from Doctor Who and Star Wars. It was basically, their cabin was the star-ship, then you open our door and get sucked out into outer space.

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For my activity I assisted Rufous in Outdoor Cooking again. It was awesome. I really love working with her. I lead the fire building team and Rufous headed up the cooking department. This was great for me, I’m not all that wonderful at the actual cooking part of Outdoor Cooking.

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Claire was in my activity! It was really nice to get to see her! Even though we were all three at camp that week, I don’t feel like I saw Meg at all. Most of what I heard about her was second hand. It was amazing to talk with Flicker (my counselor last year first week, Meg’s counselor this year first week! Such a cool/awesome/weird thing to have happened. She just can’t get away from us! 😉 ) and hear how she was doing in the cabin. Then at another time Robin, the Explorer DD, came up and told me about Meg. I just about burst my buttons, and did actually cry, hearing about how my baby sister was growing up. It was even better coming from people I look up to so much.