Don’t you wish you were at summer camp?
When they tell me that they don’t get along or that they don’t like camp I have proof to the contrary.
A day at camp
I love that there is an on-staff photographer who’s sole responsibility is to wander about the camp taking photos. The photos are posted on the camp website every night. I love thumbing through them and seeing the kids having fun. It’s a bonus when you get a good shot of your kid.
Yesterday was a daily double for us. We got shots of both kids in their elements.
He loves to swim and he always chooses a waterfront activity as his elective. The lake features a trampoline, giant slide, banana boat, inflatable climbing rock and floating swing. It looks like he conquered every one from his smile.
She is a monkey and always has been. She wrote that ropes challenge counselor called her “very brave.” She is fearless and has a great sense of balance. I hope that becomes a metaphor for her life.
My Dear Trixie,
It must be hard for you to understand that the kids are coming home in a month. It breaks my heart when I see the toys you left on their beds. I know you miss them.
Please stop looking so pathetic. I’m considering a new Tumblr where I post only photos of you looking pathetic.
This waking me up at 4:00 to play business better not become a habit. I don’t like it one bit. I know you miss them, but nobody has ever played with you at 4:00. Please stop this behavior.
Thank you for your consideration in these matters.
With love,
Randi
Missives from camp
We got a quick email from The Boy and we also saw some shots of him posted on the camp website. He likes his bunk because his friend Zach brought really good music on his iPod.
We haven’t heard from The Girl, nor have we seen any pix of her. Our only assumption is that she has gone deep under cover and can only be contacted through her code name “Me Gusta Nachos.”
This picture of a hat is about ironing.
The hat was left behind by The Girl. The hat was left behind because we were rushing to finish one task to start another and it was forgotten. I saw the hat when I was on my way downstairs to iron a couple of shirts. It was waiting in a box near where I packed their trunks.
sigh
If there is a utopia, it is a place where shirts do not need to be ironed. I try to iron as little of it as possible. The trick is to buy with an eye towards not ironing. If you buy clothes that do not need ironing or have to be professionally pressed you can keep your ironing schedule to once every three months.
There are times that call for a crisp white shirt. Usually those times are for a temperature of 72º and low humidity. That is today’s weather and so, I must iron.
When I iron, I fight it to the death. I grunt and groan, I curse, I grumble. I can never get the shirts as crisp and smooth as I want. I make weird creases in the shirts.
Today was different. I ironed beautifully. I ironed the crap out of those shirts; they look gorgeous. Everything was aligned for me to iron and iron well.
I had time to take my time.
I had quiet so that I could hear my thought.
I used steam like a boss and saw how it really helps to grease the iron.
I enjoyed myself.
I remembered to take the hat upstairs so that I can mail it to her tomorrow.
And this is how a picture of a hat is about ironing.
Things that may or may not be missing
I only have their back packs, not the trunks. Here is a list of things The Girl brought home but not The Boy:
- toothbrush
- toothpaste
- deodorant
- hairbrush
- a full pair of sneakers (he only showed up with one in the back pack)
- underwear
I am fully expecting her trunk to be packed to the gills and his to be flapping in the breeze.
No, you’re crying because you finally found some pictures on the camp site of the kids having a good time.
Help! I’ve been trapped in my basement packing camp trunks. The Boy’s is zipped, which is a major accomplishment.
