The Myth & The Majesty

It is the last night of June. A night for ... ... cool weather, because that's just the summer we've had. (Highs hitting 90 by Friday. I'll believe it when I see it.) ... Mongolian grill, because the summer staffers are in the mood for takeout. ... Frozen, because the M-Man and the Chef Lady haven't seen it yet. ... another last-night-of-camp, this time for a bunch of little-littles. (In Ashleyland, that translates as "our youngest overnight camp that isn't straight-up family camp.") ... maybe a little writing, because ideas always appear when I'm driving by myself. We'll see how this one plays out. Have a good night, all.

1. I got a new light fixture today. Yes. It was genuinely exciting. (Possibly because now it means I can actually see things before  I run into them when I get in late.) 2. My memory has improved greatly from five years ago (a subject I might tackle later, but it's a little oddly complicated for a quick evening post). However, it seems to hit a "full" point halfway through a camp's first day. 3. People who claim to be "nice" seem to mostly be (a) jerks who want to think otherwise, or (b) not very interesting. People who claim to be jerks? Only half right. 4. That one actually stems from stuff I've been reading, not from recent personal experience. 5. My Cracked addiction continues. Be careful before you click.

Today's random picture from the Ashley archives: a bridge in Washington. I can't cross an interesting-looking bridge without taking a picture. I blame my upbringing.  

We flipped about three-quarters of the camp today. Two groups got relocated. Two and a half more groups are coming in ... at least for today. Basically, in the course of a week, we've had (or will have) nine different crews in and out, ranging from 20 to 50 people each. Next week, there's a smaller camp (30ish people) and then a massive family reunion of 140. ... I don't think I even have 140 family members. It's mind-boggling. This is, hands down, the most swamped I've felt in awhile. The good news is that we're trucking right through it. The bad news is ... I could use some sleep.

It's gonna be a bumpy night...

My travel companion turned 7 this week.  Here she is taking in the view at Arches. As it happens, she also just hit 100,000 miles, a feat that I figured I would hit in a much shorter time span ... at least, when I bought her. She's put up with a lot over the years. A pile of miles followed by months (and years) of very little. Gravel at high speeds. Rain, snow, hail with minimal damage. A kayak getting tied to the top. Seriously. Poor Sophie. Despite everything I've put her through, she's given me very little grief over the years, a trait I hope continues for many more miles. I've got big plans for her and I hope they go smoothly. Here's to you, Sophie, and the miles ahead.

It's Tuesday, which means a couple things. Camp's half over. My body's a little angry with me because ... well, it's tired. And not 22 anymore, as it turns out. Seriously, has 30 always been an age where all of the sudden your knees start to hurt? It was new and unexpected. Anyway, tonight for no reason at all, I found myself thinking of the day I took this. That's the Dalles there with Mount Hood approaching. That was the day I entered Oregon and easily the best ... well ... okay, probably the best part of the drive west. (The drive out was awesome for about a thousand miles.) Maybe I'm craving a drive right now. In any case, this picture made me feel all warm and fuzzy today. ... Have a good night, all. 

I love cheese. I mention this not just because I've gone into the "random conversation" portion of the day, but because it's a relevant topic in my life. You see, dairy products of all kind have given me heartburn since I was in about sixth grade. At first, it was the ultra-processed stuff; after a few years, I realized I couldn't drink milk without being in pain. A few more years and I didn't even pour milk on my cereal. I've never had to avoid it entirely (which is why I usually refer to myself as "lactose irritated" instead of intolerant) but each day has its limit and no two days are entirely the same. And while I've certainly found ways to cope with it -- rationing my intake if I know ice cream is in my future, planning meals as necessary, always having Tums on hand -- it's not fun and I know I've been doing permanent damage. After trying a couple of prescriptions over the years and a couple of rounds of OTC drugs (like

You know those days where you just wake up fearing the worst? Not an absent fear, mind you. A fear that is based on what you know going into the day and past experience. I woke up today fearing the worst. But then ... things started to fall into place. Counselors were found. Schedules were altered. Slowly but surely, everything came together and we were ready for the next first day of camp. Which is good, since today WAS the next first day of camp. Now, I find myself back home at last. Dad's back from his most recent trip to the east side of the state ... and this time, he brought Edgar. It's a good evening.

It's the first day of summer. This evening, I find myself holed up at home (not part of the original plan) thanks to some thunderstorms in the area that would suck the fun out of ... most everything. They already made driving unpleasant and hiking downright miserable. Instead, I can use my time to do a little trip daydreaming over at Atlas Obscura , my newest find in my attempt to make future excursions more interesting, both local and long-distance. So far, my Compendium of Wonders consists of a pile of random museums, a few disaster zones and ghost towns, at the world's largest ball of paint. Now, to start checking things off... Not tonight, though. Tonight, I prep for another week of camp, do some much-needed laundry (seems I'm behind on most normal grown-up requirements right now), and watch my very favorite Ben Stiller movie. ... "Congratulations, you've just joined the 76% of Americans who forget to stretch before doing any physical activity.&quo

I love the first day of camp. The excitement, the energy, the fact that kids are still just scared enough of you to behave. But I also love the last day when the bus pulls away. Because I miss my quiet. So tonight -- on a last day, after our weekly family reunion has appeared -- I'm quite relieved to be sitting in my quiet living room, chatting with this kid.   I've gotten that look quite a few times over the years. And I've deserved most of them.

The marshmallows. The songs. The stories, ghost or otherwise. After 18 years, this is still my very favorite part of camp.

Whew! I can tell summer's in full swing because I've just plain run out of energy at the end of the day. Not necessarily out of ideas (well, maybe out of interesting ones) but whatever's left in my energy bank is usually spent on normal adult things. Like laundry. Gotta get caught up sometime. However, I've made it over a month with a post a day ... and I'm not giving up now. So for tonight, I'll leave you with one of the most peaceful pictures I've taken in recent history.

I had big plans for today's post, but .... yeah, not gonna happen. Just not the day for it. Today's the kind of day where things didn't go as planned. Instead of getting office work done, I spent the day fielding phone calls and campers. Instead of going to campfire, kids are staying inside out of the thunderstorms. It's the kind of day that's been fascinating and exhausting and anything but routine. I'm kind of done with it. I like not having anything too routine, but some days I really want a normal night's sleep. And for that matter, the ability to finish the things I intended. And maybe fewer complications. Have a good night, all. I don't know about you but I'm ready for a decent night's break.

I like the schedule Jenga. And the part where nothing stays the same for too long. And the fact that I have yet to get bored in a year and a half. And the exercise. ... I dislike clogged toilets. Really, it's a pretty okay balance.

I despise the chicken dance. [The stuff of nightmares right here.] This really has little with how I feel about weddings but I think it needs to be said. I hate it. I understand its purpose -- everybody knows it, everybody can dance to it, and by all means, a fairly large part of the population seems to enjoy it. However, it's about five minutes too long. Moreover, I think that after 50-some weddings, of which only six or seven did not have dances following dinner, and probably 75% of which played that song, I'm allowed to hate it. But this chicken dance issue of mine plays to a certain problem that tends to run rampant through weddings, one that has made me say repeatedly that with every wedding I attend my own theoretical wedding gets smaller. [It's gotten so small now that it doesn't even include a groom!] Brides and grooms of the world (particularly the US) -- stop torturing your guests! There are a lot of ways that this happens, but they boil down t

1. We're about 45 hours from the beginning of our first big round of conference camps and I'm excited. 2. I have an empty house for one more night. I should really be getting something accomplished today. 3. The fact that my parents are moving out here means I've had a lot more photo ops with them in places we don't normally frequent together. Like this one.  That may be the world's oldest surviving Notre Dame sweatshirt. 4. It's also been a lot of fun to flip through recent photos and realize how often the sibs turn up. Having Mia Sorella back in the country has been excellent -- now if only Jay were around, we could have a proper gathering with all seven of us (if Miss M were around as well). 5. High of 80 tomorrow. Given today's 60-ish degrees and near-dark at 8AM (a rather intense thunderstorm rolled through), I think I'll believe it when it happens. On a related note, it's hard to feel summery when it's continuously chilly. 6

It's a good day for a re-post, I think. Especially since I just read this. Go on. It's a pretty good read.

It's been a long day, but it's mostly over. The camp that's here is into their candlelight service ... thing ... that they do every year, also known as their highly emotional but mostly quiet evening. They also eat an early breakfast and hit the road by 7:00. I have a weekend ahead of me that involves fewer guests, an empty house, and -- with any luck -- some down time. Maybe a couple of movies. A nap or two. Even a hike, if I'm really good. Yep. Definitely summer.

At what point do you declare yourself a workaholic? Is it when it interferes with the rest of your life? When you realize that it's interrupted your other time -- your family time, your friend time, whatever? When you're not sure what else to do with your time? Clearly, I love my job. I talk about it here ... all the time. It inspires at least two-thirds of the posts here. And right now, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Even with the long hours. And the "does-this-count-as-work-when-I'm-mostly-goofing-off?" moments that I'm not sure what to do with. Or when I answer an email after 8PM about how we might fix our internet situation here. [Yep, that just happened.] This isn't just a job. This is a place that's altered the way I do things, the way I react to things, the way I treat people. I've learned how to cope with crowds, banter with campers, and fold a fitted sheet. I can fix up a kid that scraped her knee hiking and not be t

Common Camp Indicators That Summer Has Started A 5AM moment when you realize (a) you're the only one moving and (b) the sun is already coming up. Grill smoke. Walking to work and realizing the entire area smells of cooking bacon. Odd traffic jams -- namely, when golf carts, pickups, and a 4-wheeler need to be moved in a specific order because everyone converged quickly for lunch. The smell of cooking marshmallow. The smell of a group of unwashed middle school boys. ... and unwashed middle school girls. The realization while cleaning that most people really do move in for a week. Also, that they'll never use all of those clothes. Probably because half of them are wearing the same thing on day 3 that they arrived in. Odd questions, from, "Do you have any extra Saran Wrap? We had six rolls but we ran out" to "Do you know how to get fabric paint off a table?" A sudden need to keep glow sticks and water balloons in stock. A realization that you'

In 1948, a seemingly impossible undertaking began. Somewhat in response to Mount Rushmore, a second sculpture was commissioned, this one in honor of the Lakota people that considered the Black Hills sacred. Crazy Horse Memorial was to be enormous and more importantly, more than a mountain carving -- the master plan included museums and a university, among other things. Sixty-six years later, the sculpture is still in progress, but a museum, cultural center, and a satellite campus of the University of South Dakota have found their homes there. There is plenty of controversy surrounding the very existence of such a place and the arguments over the years have been fierce -- yet it's found its place in the Black Hills experience. A big part of said experience is the Crazy Horse Volksmarch. This particular volksmarch (a noncompetitive, usually 10K walk) takes you through the woods from the museum parking lot around to the back of the mountain itself ... and then up right ont

It's been a good day. Mia Sorella, Shorty & I hit the Volksmarch at Crazy Horse this morning, despite the weather. Thankfully it wasn't particularly cold -- which makes six miles in drizzly rain much more bearable, as it turns out. After that, it was lunch before Mia Sorella headed back east. And then a nap. Because at some point in my adult life, that became almost necessary on a regular basis. Said nap, however, ruined my best intentions to get a bunch of pictures and the Volksmarch story up here today. Instead, I leave you with one of the placards at the top ... which, really, is a pretty good rule for life in general.

You know those friends with whom you have an obscene number of inside jokes? I have those friends. More prominently, however, there are my siblings. The fact that all five of us and Miss M are all under one roof right now means that the in-jokes and ridiculous quotes have been running rampant, stopping just short of us breaking into song as has been known to happen. I've missed this. ["You're not a bwoom?"]

... dreary and cold all day long. But at 6AM, it was also pretty much beautiful.

It's annual conference this week, which means a few things. Chaos in camp. A bossman only periodically on site. And Shorty's here, meaning the three men in my life are all under one roof for a couple nights.  The third being my furry nephew, Barney. It also means Shorty decided to entertain some of our young guests with his latest hobby: a radio-controlled car that can go faster than the cars going through camp. And leaves its own tread marks. This was a fraction of a second before I had to jump. Also, it brakes reeeeally well. Add in a clear sky and grilled steak and you have a pretty excellent evening. Life is good.

I can't really complain about rain. I mean, I've seen this place -- all of the Hills, really -- in bad drought years. It's depressing. It's hot. It's ... kind of scary, actually. [Actually, regardless of conditions, we have a forest fire escape plan. Because you never know.] Last year we had more regular rain than I've ever seen in my time in the Hills. This year -- after ridiculous snowfall -- we've had rain probably three times a week so far. I ... genuinely don't know what to do with that. It's wonderful. It's green and things are blooming and the fire danger has been moderate at the highest. Heck, we've only had a couple days get above 80 (and I get ridiculously whiny above 90). Granted, there's plenty of time for the rain to stop and for the heat to get unbearable -- and I'm comparing this summer to some that were genuinely hot and uncomfortable -- but the bottom line is that it's ... odd. Great, but odd. Now,

Summer has started. We have people in ... pretty much every cabin in camp. They're loud and wonderful. ... I'm already exhausted.

I, like so many others, have gotten hooked on TED talks. I enjoy the bite-sized pieces of wisdom, the chance to learn something new while I'm waiting for an email to be returned or the phone to ring. I love the variety -- and I love the chance to listen and contemplate and occasionally vehemently disagree. If there's one thing the Internet has given us that we need to use more often, it's the chance to learn from the privacy of our own kitchen tables and then discuss as much or as little as the experience warrants. If you haven't seen one, give the website a look. And if you'd like to get a taste, try out this talk from Susan Cain -- especially if you have an introvert in your life or are one yourself. "So I wish you the best of all possible journeys and the courage to speak softly." [If the embedded video doesn't cooperate with your browser, the linked quote above will take you to it.]

I need to watch this movie again.       [Raise your hand if you also just saw the dopey guy from the Sonic commercials.] I'm not a huge fan of Will Ferrell. I am, however, a huge sympathizer with Harold Crick. I think watching this may be a necessary activity this evening.