"C" is the Way it begins

"C" is the way it begins, 
and "H" is the second letter in
"I" is the middle of the word
and "C" you've already heard
"K" is a kind of hen
and "E" you are nearing the "N"
C-H-I-C-K-E-N
That's the way you spell "chicken."

This is part of a song from Chicken/Rufus Raftus Johnson Brown, a song that always is stuck in my head at camp.  It's not particularly a favorite song, but it's catchy.

I'm supposed to be either leaving for camp tomorrow, or already be there-I have done so for the past seven summers.  But I'm not.  And it's weird.

 I have all this extra time now.  A couple extra weeks of summer at home.  It sucks.  Here's to camp and all the wonderful people there, all the wonderful times.  I'll be back soon, Cedar Lodge.

Rufus Raftus Johnson Brown, oh whatcha gonna do when the rent comes around?  Whatcha gonna do or whatcha gonna say, can't make the rent 'til the break of day.  You know and I know and everybody else knows you can't pay the rent if you ain't got the dough.  Rufus Raftus Johnson Brown, whatcha gonna do when the rent comes around?

What Exactly One Does At Camp

So everytime a person (usually an adult) finds out about my summer camp, the following question proceeds. "Oh, so what do/did you do there?" I find this question stupid. Most adults know what goes on at summer camp. Swimming, playing games, doing arts and crafts, etc. So that's what I tell them.

Of course, that's not all that happens at camp. But it's the only part we can tell the adults about without them getting concerned.

I can't mention the thrill of successfully pantsing my counselor. Or seeing the cute twelve year old couples slow dancing awkwardly and sharing a blanket at campfires. My first time hoof picking a horse's back hooves. Twisting my ankle three times in a week, but being able to claim being the only person to play Misson Impossible on crutches.

What I really did at camp this summer?

• Have feasts in the cabin despite the fact we aren't supposed to have food in the cabin.
• Play crazy card games that involve dead dictators.
• Discussing the best make out spots in camp. (the walk in refrigeration room, anyone?)
• Making jokes about your mother
• Taking pictures that you wouldn't want your grandmother to see
• Ranting about religion and politics and why Americans can be dumbasses
• Pants people
• Be pantsed.
• Twist my ankle three times
• Bitching about who has to scoop ice cream
• Going to see the new HP movie
  
• Five way spooning at campfire.
• Be generally perverted and inappropriate 24/7
  

From now on, adults who ask me what I did at camp, I will simply refer them to this blog entry. Then again, maybe not, as I will be considered a bit of a pervert. Oh well. Lying works too.

Lessons Learned, Opposite Feelings

This summer was supposed to be my last summer at camp. It was always going to be the streaky faced goodbyes and emptiness.

But I've never felt so full. I had a camp experience free of drama and boy troubles. I have memories and pictures and friends. It was my perfect ending, but it also made me realize that I'd be welcome to come back as staff next year.

I learned that I can draw people again. I have my fitness and my klutziness back. I feel much more whole than before camp, I guess it's because camp is a place where I've been bad and I've been good. Some old qualities are falling back into place.

I fell out of love at camp this year. I relearned myself without that boy and the ones before him.

Everything I thought was a big deal won't be in the long run. I have time to plan futures, travel the world, meet people. For right now, I have time to be myself. Not obsess about the future.

Be myself. <3

Off the Addiction

I am going computer free for the next couple weeks. Mostly because I have camp, but also because I'm sick of it. I'm on it too much. Like, way too much.

I have loved ones all coming in on Saturday, and a ton of packing and great books and a brother coming home who will desire the computer anyways.

So buh bye. I'm hoping my withdrawal symptoms will be minimal.

Stella

Stella died. Since no one reading this knows who Stella is, I'll explain.

Every year I go to a wonderful, welcoming, amazing second home. Aka, summer camp. My summer camp, Cedar Lodge, is owned by a family, the Edwards. This morning, the matriarch passed on.

Stella is so unique, was, I suppose. Every year, she knew every campers' name, and she'd put forth the effort to spend time with all the staff and campers, even after she had a serious fall a couple years ago. I'd marvel how she still remembered my name the second summer after spending only a week there. She of all people did. When several campers and staff did not. Campers and staff that spent much more time with me than her.

Every Sunday, she was there welcoming the new and returning campers, farewelling the leaving ones.

Every Sunday that I arrived at camp for the past six years, she was a fixture there.

Every Sunday, she was the first face I saw welcoming me back.

Every Sunday I left I missed her.

I only have one grandparent left. Stella was some kind of close replacement for the ones I was missing.

I miss my summer camp, I miss my camp friends, I miss the staff. But all those people and things I'll see again. Stella I won't.

Goodbye Stella. Rest in peace.