Full schedule.

Your dreams have come true--I'm home from summer camp! I just spent the past month staying up late, getting up early, gossiping, and having Nutella for breakfast. (That last one is directly related to me spending the rest of my summer working out.) Oh, and there was some learning. Some educational goals. Some brilliant and talented 15 year olds from around the world, proving to me that the next generation is doing something right. That maybe things will be ok when they're in charge. Until they drink curry sauce on a dare and remind me that oh yeah, they're 15.
But you don't want to hear about that sappy bright future garbage. Right?
I somehow managed to weasel my way into Man Talk, a daily gossip session between three 15 year old boys from the US, Germany, and Finland. For reasons still unknown to me, I was given a standing invitation to attend Man Talk. It was gossip gold; high security clearance into their inner circle.
Between Man Talk, the occasional girl talk sessions I sat in on, and then gossip circle with the adults at camp...my days were full. It's a wonder that I was able to fit in any activities.

I love camp. :)


Stay tuned for camp highlights, including my favorite new game...Hate-O.

Abandonment issues.

I have been really terrible about updating lately. Life has been...ridiculous. (In the busy way, not the story way. You'd have heard those.)
For the three of you left still checking for updates, I'll get back to writing in about a month. You know how sometimes I leave you for a month to work at summer camp? Yeah, that's happening again. Because my life is actually pretty awesome.
I'll try to live some good stories for you!

Still making friends.

Readers might remember my recent quest to cut down on the junk mail (and paper) in my life. I've been shooting off emails about every catalog and donation request to find its way into my mailbox. I shop online; who needs the catalogs anyway? My sent folder is full of these emails. Including one to the National Wildlife Federation. (Their goal, you see, being to preserve nature and wildlife. A fine goal, admittedly. As previously stated, I love trees. And animals. Etc.) The automated responses always tell me they've removed my address, with the caveat that any mailings in process will still head my way. Ok. I can understand that. But how long does that take? Because I emailed the NWF around 2 months ago. And this weekend, received YET ANOTHER ENVELOPE.

This one was huge; it was the kind of envelope that suggests you've been accepted to a university. After reacting like a mature adult,** I opened it to find a wide variety of dead trees. Letters seeking my financial support, a return envelope, the ubiquitous address labels, and my personal favorite--a calendar. A freaking calendar! Are you kidding me with this, National Wildlife Federation? It's full of pictures of some of the wonders of nature we're all trying to protect. I get the idea...maybe I'm not inclined to donate money but then Wait polar bears?? OMG SO CUTE!!1! I see through your ploy, NWF.

Oh, you want to see the calendar? Ok.

Image by Tom & Pat Leeson
"Just try to cut down my tree and I will eat your face." Fair enough , Florida panther.

Image of Northern Gannett by Arthur Morris/BIRDS AS ART

Sea otter image by Art Wolfe

Bobcat, Image by Jurgen & Christine Sohns/FLPA/Minden Pictures
Bobcats can be so self-centered.

Wow, animals are a lot surlier than I thought. Chill out guys. This kind of attitude might be why some of you are endangered. I'm just saying. Right duck?

Mallard duckling, Image by Tom & Pat Leeson

Exactly.


It's time for another email! Guys, the good news here is that I think summer vacation is coming at a really good time for me...clearly I need MORE free time.



**By "reacting like a mature adult," I clearly mean "yelled a little bit and proceeded to rant, including commentary on every calendar page, which may or may not have led to the above pictures."

Excuse me.

Guys, do babies care what their diapers look like? I mean, is this something we're legitimately concerned with? That we have even thought twice about the style factor of a diaper is such an embarrassingly first-world problem.
Diapers that look like denim? REALLY, world? Really? As if anyone would see that and think, "How fashionable. I wish it was socially acceptable for ME to crap in my jeans. Babies have all the luck!"

Gross.

Thee more minutes?

For the past two hours, we've had some severe weather warnings going on around here. Thunderstorms, tornadoes, and flash floods. Which means the local weathermen jumped to action and covered it--for the entire two hours. Not one commercial break. They just went over and over and over the conditions. The poor guys sounded bored of their own voices. They sighed occasionally. (I cannot make this up.)
For added convenience, after we saw the areas where weather was the worst, a list of cities where the storm was headed was put on screen. Along with times. The time when the worst was supposed to hit.
This Timeline of Terror was hardly helpful, as it just made me sit and stare at the clock! Waiting. Calculating how bad things were and how much worse they could get. What kind of helpful tool is that??
As we're back to our regularly scheduled rerun of House, I think things are ok for now. According to the Timeline of Terror, I should be good for a while. Until the next wave comes through, anyway.

Sleep well, kids.

Holiday.

I realize this is a bit of a departure from my usual writing, but I want to tell you about a man who didn't let me down.

Some months ago, I sat on an airplane next to a young man fresh from Army basic training. He didn't speak until takeoff, when he awkwardly blurted out, "This is going to be really weird." I decided to go with it and asked what he meant by that. (All the while hoping he didn't mean any kind of weird that would involve me.) It was strange, he said, because the last half-dozen times he'd been in an airplane, he'd jumped out. It was a great opening line.
For the next two hours, I learned that he'd gone through basic training and jump school. (He's now a paratrooper; clearly the most badass thing one can choose to do in the military.) We talked about a lot of things, including why he'd enlisted and his feelings about going home again. He was raised in a military family.
I have a military family too, and was raised with a respect for it. Without going into the politics of it, I don't always agree with the actions of the US military. But soldiers? That's a different story. In my family, that's something you honor and respect.
I asked how he felt about his upcoming deployment, thinking that it's a pretty scary time in the world to be facing deployment to the Middle East. He shrugged his shoulders. I got the impression that it was still quite new to him, that it hadn't fully hit him. He enlisted because he felt like it was something he should do. He said he didn't like sitting back knowing there was more he could be doing. I commented that he was doing something selfless--I'm certain I don't possess that kind of bravery. I actually felt ridiculous as the words came out of my mouth. I was sure this kid would look at me and think, "Lady, there is no need to get sentimental about this, ok? You're not going to cry, are you? It's just something I do, whatever." It didn't go that way at all, though. (Fortunately.) His attitude was really surprising, particularly for a man in his early 20s. (We all know that demographic typically sucks at life.) "Oh," he said softly. He struggled for words. "I don't...thank you. That means a lot." He spoke like I was doing him a favor.
"It's the truth," I said.

So to that kid, who never told me his name but told me plenty of funny and interesting stories, thanks for making my flight anything but boring. I sometimes think about him when there are troops on the news being deployed to Afghanistan...and I hope he's ok.
And while you're home from work today enjoying your day off, take a minute to think about why we observe Memorial Day.

It's like a fairy tale.

I think the practice of going through one's phone numbers occasionally is a fine one. Useful, even. Today I got a text from someone doing just that, asking if the number was still Amanda. When he asked how we knew each other, I was not offended. When he apologized after learning the answer, I was still not offended. However. When he asked me out, I was Officially Offended.
From my perspective, the whole thing reads a little bit like, "How do I know you? Oh, right. I forgot that I sort of wanted to bang you. What do you say?" AND YOU CAN IMAGINE HOW I SWOONED.

Guys, we need a little more tact and a little less douchebaggery.



Oh, and if that isn't romantic enough for you, boy in question has a girlfriend. Major points deducted from considerable deficit.