Wait, you're doing WHAT this summer?

The same thing I do EVERY summer.

I go to camp.

I spend six weeks of my summer on a mountain, in the forest.
Surrounded by boy scouts.
For a tiny pay check.
Living in a mouse-infested cabin.
AND I LOVE THE EVER-LOVING, DIRTY, ROTTEN, STINKING, CRAP OUT OF IT.

I really do.
It's where I've met some of my best friends. It's where I really and truly found God. It's where I would spend my entire life if I could. As long as I got vacations. I've done some outrageous things there, like eat a LOT of ketchup. I'm not going to mention a few of the other things because my mother reads this. No, I'm totally kidding but I have gone on a hike at two in the morning covered in honey and peanut butter laughing after the fact. It's also where I took my first ride in the back of an ambulance on a gurney. I've ridden in the back on calls with the VFD, but I talked about it here .
I can't even begin to explain the awesomeness of camp. It's just...too amazing. You learn a lot at camp-about yourself, for one thing.

I honestly wanted to write a post about camp, but there aren't words.

I mean, I've been piss-pot scared at camp. I've nearly peed myself laughing. I've cried too, a few times.
Camp is beautiful, camp is love. Camp is funny and sad. It's amazing, it's stupendous, it's wonderful. It's stupenmazful.
Driving up to camp on the first day, my heart just opens up. I see that crappy dirt road, the Bowl with small patches of snow even though it's mid-June, the beautiful and tasty looking creek filled with gihardia and kryptosperidium (those are real parasite-they make you pretty grossly sick), and I get moths in my stomach. You don't get butterflies in your tummy here. You get moths. Why, you ask? Because they are DELICIOUS. I feel whole, I feel complete, I feel like my life can't get any better. But then it does.
Camp starts.
We eat moths too. That's another story.
We come up with the most fantastic tales, we sing and dance in front of a fire, we run from the ninja-drop-bears who want to kill me because I'm covered in snow-cone syrup, we avoid the Honey Wagon at all costs, we bother Doug because he knows all.We leave what happens in the admin building in the admin building, and 0 does most certainly equal 7 according to some people. Creating appropriate hand-gestures for when you can't yell from the snack bar to the handi-craft lodge is not only allowed, but sometimes encouraged.
Shenanigans are required.

Anyway, Disney Land may be the happiest place on earth, but Walt Disney's never been to SPSR.

Also, I'm listening to this .

Tata!
P7