Promise

"Can I go play over on that pile of broken glass on the edge of that cliff with those rabid wolves?" -Camper

"No, that's not safe, you could get hurt." -Me

"But I promise I won't get hurt." -Camper

"You promise promise???" -Me

A little while later, camper comes to me crying and bleeding.

"But you promised you wouldn't get hurt!" -Me

This isn't an actual scenario, rather, a culmination of experiences from early in my career. As an 18 year old, with little experience with kids, it's difficult to say no. Kids will say anything to try to convince you and even though you've been trained in safety procedures, 8 year olds can be very convincing.

Convincing until you have to go to your boss a few times and ask for an incident report and you learn that kids can't actually promise not to get hurt, accidents are, by nature, unintentional.

A month ago, my dad fell and broke his ribs while working. I wanted to file a worker's comp report but because my dad hates all things official, he was completely against it. We argued for 2 days and it was difficult for me to make a decision against my dad's wishes, even though I knew it was the right choice.

But then he said, "I promise this isn't a big deal and nothing else will come of it" and a GIANT red flag shot up and I remembered every similar conversation I'd ever had involving campers making that same promise, and my decision became clear. Even more convincing than my commitment to running this camp according to policy and procedure (which is strong), was the fact that "I promise I won't get hurt" is an almost guarantee that blood is imminent.

Cut to a month later (ie- Thursday of last week) and I miss 4 calls during the time it took me to shower. Willy was driving my dad to the hospital because he couldn't breathe. Which soon led to him being moved into the ICU. Which led to a helicopter ride across the state to a level 1 trauma center intensive care unit, 2 chest tubes and a possible upcoming chest surgery.

As of today, he's been in the ICU for 4 days and his hospital stay is going to be at least another week.

He promised that nothing would come of a little cracked rib. Luckily I'm not 18 and worried about being the "bad guy" anymore. I learned my lesson, a few bloody campers ago- making the right choice and dealing with a crabby kid (or dad) is tough, but not nearly as tough as a conversation that starts with, "but you promised..."

Party

I'm trying a new technique to recruit campers by asking parents to host a part in their home, invite other parents who might be interested in camp and let me show a video, talk to them and convince them our camp is the place for their child. This was a very common thing for camp directors did many years ago. Some still do it, and so far, it seems promising.

One of the mother's who agreed to host also sells Mary Kay products, so she's done lots of these types of parties and will hopefully be successful in helping me sell camp. In addition to a camp party, she is also hosting a Mary Kay party that day, which will hopefully increase the number of attendees. She told me about it so I could stay after my part was done and I was planning on it, until I got the invitation today.

It's not just a Mary Kay party, it is also a Pure Romance party. If you have not heard the million radio ads for Pure Romance, it is just like a Tupperware or make up party, but for sex toys! I'm a bit uptight to begin with and I think if I ever attended one of these I'd have to spend the evening actively pulling my jaw off the floor in between gasping at nearly everything that was brought out.

With friend, it would be awkward. But with a camper's mother (and a room of potential camper mothers), the very thought gives me the chills. I've not been to one of these parties, but I imagine it is like a Tuppeware party where the host takes out a product, we all pass it around, oohing and ahhing. I'm picturing a giant penis shaped toy and trying to think of what kind of reaction I would have when it was passed to me. Polite head nodding? Pinch it between two fingers and avoid looking directly at it? Excuse myself to go to the bathroom as soon as it is brought out of the bag? Feign wild enthusiasm and excitement? Perhaps not even the way these parties work, but the though of it makes me want to crawl under a rock and die.

So now I'm thinking up excuses for how to get out of there as soon as my presentation is done. I'll let you know how it goes...

Climbing

My boyfriend and I went on vacation with 3 other couples last week. These were my BF's friends, and I hadn't spent much time with them up until this trip, so there was lots of "get to know ya" conversations.

Most of them worked for big companies and as late 20 somethings, are working hard to climb the corporate ladder, establish themselves, and move forward in their careers. Not all of them liked their jobs, but acknowledged that it was part of the process. They were curious about my job- a small nonprofit organization, a board of directors as a boss, working with kids- all of it was very different that their jobs.

"Climbing the ladder" seemed to be a pretty common topic that everyone, despite having different jobs, was doing. As we spent the week laying by the pool and chatting, I heard about their current positions, jobs they wanted to apply for, their dream jobs for the future and the process of how to get there.

In several conversations, I heard similar comments from my vacation comrades- success means achieving the “right” title, gaining power, prestige and respect, and making the most money you can in your field.

Years ago, I fell in love with camp and decided I wanted to work in camping forever. Early on, using the same criteria for measuring success, I chose the highest position you could have- executive director- and set my sights on that as my ultimate goal.

After three years of being there, my goal has changed slightly. I still want to be an executive director, running a resident camp. But after reading every book and article I could find about camp, and getting to know dozens of other camp directors from a variety of different camps- all who have had vastly different careers, I am able to better define what I aspire to become.

I want to be a camp director that spends her entire career in one place. I want to put my passion and energy into building a community and making a lasting impact on both the camp and the people who come to camp.

I want my career to be a journey of growth, learning, and love.

It’s not about money, achievement, or getting ahead. It’s about making a commitment- planting seeds and watching them develop over time. It’s about facing the challenges, celebrating the successes, and being consistent throughout the years of growth and change. It's the ability to look back and know your hard work has gone into creating something.

In the past, people had the same job for decades, but now it’s common for people to change jobs every few years. I know that my life and my dreams might very well change in the future. It’s difficult to plan where you’ll be three years from now, so planning 30 years ahead is probably unrealistic. And I recognize that my “career goal” (if you want to call it that) is a bit idealistic.

So when the question of, “where do you hope to be in your career in 5 years?” comes up, I tend to just shrug and say, “oh, I’m not sure exactly what’s next for me” and then direct the conversation back to them. Because there's no way to say, "I'm working on building a legacy" without causing everyone in the room to roll their eyes.

Rally Day 2011

Camp's third annual Rally Day was this morning. As always, I was SICK to my stomach, terrified no one would show up or that some sort of disaster would occur. I hope that there comes a time when I don't agonize over every event, because today was lovely and all of my worrying was pointless.

7 of my summer staff from last year, Nurse J, my boyfriend, my mom and I arrived early to set up. We did it in a different location this year, which was a much bigger space, but, I feared, if only a few people came, would be awkwardly empty.

We set up an information table, camp store items to sell, face painting, a coloring contest, a scavenger hunt, as well as several other games, including a makeshift gaga pit. Both dogs were there, my saint of a mother walking them around, making sure they got water, went outside and didn't cause any trouble.

Families started rolling in 10 minutes before it was even supposed to begin. Two of my board members came, and at one point, I'd been deep in conversation and when I looked up, I was overwhelmed to see a HUGE crowd of people happily playing games, talking with the staff, cooing over the dogs- everyone smiling and enjoying themselves.

I have been saying since the first day I began this position that I could turn this camp around in 5 years. It's been three years and the programming, administration, physical property, marketing (and many other areas) are running well, really well. But we are still at 50% capacity. Building relationships is the most time consuming, slowest, most intense piece of this effort, but it is the most important element in our future success. We had significantly more people at Rally Day this year than we did last year or the first year. Today was a great example of how many relationships I've already made and how crucial it is to build a community. I feel very positive about our progress and I'm looking forward to Rally Day 4.

Workers Comp.

"Where do you take the kids when there is an emergency?" -pained voice of my dad when I answered the phone.

My dad was at the pole barn, slipped on some ice, fell and laid on the ice for 15 minutes- his whole body in pain. He thought he had gotten the wind knocked out of him. But the next morning when he woke up, he was having trouble breathing, so he called me.

He fractured two of his ribs, which is painful, but not as bad as I'd feared it could be.

When he went to Urgent Care, he told them he'd hurt himself at home, which, technically, was true as he lives at camp. Except that he was working at the time and so he should have said he was hurt on the job and it would be covered under workers compensation.

But this is my dad we are talking about and he hates anything bureaucratic- he doesn't even have a bank account any more (imagine a pile of cash stacked inside of a Bible with a gun sitting on top of it- that's my father's idea of a bank). He was completely opposed to the idea of workers compensation because he didn't want our insurance premiums to go up. I told him not to worry about the camp budget, it would be fine. I appreciated his looking out for the organization, but x-rays and doctor visits aren't cheap and he shouldn't have to pay for it himself, when clearly it was a safety issue at his place of work.

We argued and argued about this and he was adamant that we not file workers comp, regardless of my logic. So I suggested camp just write a check and cover the expenses- he would be taken care of and the insurance wouldn't be affected. He was okay with that arrangement.

But as I thought about it further, I started thinking about every instance from the past 3 years when I found records of something that was mishandled and thought, "why did they do it this way?" J and I have found piles of old files, most with handwritten notes on scrap paper, most that leave out major details or proper documentation. Over and over again, I have shook my head and wondered how this camp has not been sued, gone bankrupt or been closed due to poor management. We are a business. A business needs to have policies, procedures and operate based on a structure, not the whim of whomever is in charge at the time.

From the moment I became executive director, I have spent an obscene amount of time trying to fix things, straighten things out and get us to where we should be. All of my hard work and we have made little progress forward because we had to come from SO far behind.

When I first began this position, I struggled to make decisions, especially if they didn't make everyone happy. I didn't know what I was doing, didn't have any experience, and there were few policies to guide me. I'd been so excited to work for a small organization after being at the YMCA (which is a huge and complex and has a million levels of management). I wanted to get away from all of the restrictive policies and paperwork and from doing things "because that's how they have to be done". But a business, whether giant like the YMCA or tiny like Camp, needs structure, and so I found every manual, staff handbook, piece of paperwork (all the pieces of my former job I'd found annoying and time consuming), and I spent hours, weeks, months, copying and pasting "Camp" everywhere it said YMCA and creating a structure for this mess of an organization.

And so, against my dad's wishes, I called Urgent Care and fixed the mistake, filed a workers compensation claim and went to bed satisfied that as a leader, not every person will like me, agree with me or be happy with every decision I make. I want to be liked, but more than that, I want to know that I've done my best to be fair, consistent, make decisions based on the common good of the camp, and follow policy. This was a great reminder of that and I am happy with how I handled it.

My First Paper

After quite a lot of whining, sighing deeply and wasting copious amounts of time googling hilarious pictures of animals, I finally wrote my first paper for graduate school.

I hadn't written a paper since I graduated in 2004! I didn't remember how to cite references or how to do a reference page in APA format. It was only a 3 page paper, but I was really nervous.

After staring at a blank screen and psyching myself out for several minutes, I started typing my intro paragraph about how I wished the paper was a blog entry about my dogs. Once I started getting words down, I remembered that I actually like writing and the rest of the paper (including an appropriate introduction) flowed quickly.

I was a little unsure how many references I should have made throughout the paper and how many sources I should have used and if it was graduate level awesomeness, but I figured for the first one, it probably wasn't bad.

When I saw that my grade was posted, I was surprised at the terror and dread I felt as I avoided opening it in fear that the beginning of my advanced education was going to be a difficult and painful process.

So when I got the following comments, I was pleasantly surprised.

Excellent work on your paper, you receive full points. You clearly outline why nonprofits are important, give great examples and help the reader understand by offering more detail. Your paper is organized, logical and well written. On first papers I am very picky (but grade lenient) as I give lots of feedback to make the paper better for the next assignment. I have no additional feedback for you except to continue in this manner. Again, great work.

Not a bad way to begin. Perhaps this isn't going to be as agonizing as I'd feared...

Hoarders...

I used to watch the show "Hoarders" which is absolutely fascinating and horrifying at the same time. When things are out of place or my house is even a little bit messy, it throws me off completely and I am crabby, unable to focus and overwhelmed. If my space is disorganized, my mind feels chaotic. I can't imagine living in a home where stuff (and often garbage) is piled to the ceiling, filling rooms and making a house practically un-inhabitable.

The problem with watching Hoarders on Monday night is that every single Tuesday (for several weeks in a row), I would have a breakdown over a pile or a mess somewhere in the house. It might be dirty dishes in the sink or the storage space in the basement, but I would end up in a panic, yelling at my roommates that we were going to end up on that show.

Eventually my brother said, "what can I do to get you to stop watching that show?" and then he deleted it from our tivo. I haven't watched it since then and I have to admit, I've been much calmer and had far less freak outs (although I still really hate when the house isn't picked up).

When the three of us moved into my house, we didn't have very much stuff and so being organized was easy. It's amazing how much you can accumulate though, and 3 years later, this house is BURSTING. My brother and H are planning to buy a house of their own and have been looking for a few months now. In the meantime, they've been accumulating things they will need (pots and pans, furniture, etc). It's smart of them to do- I had to buy SO much stuff when I first bought the house, so if they can get it now, it will help them avoid spending tons of money all at once. So I'm supportive... in theory.

Except that there is stuff EVERYWHERE. And pretty soon, we aren't going to be able to organize it, so I fear we are verging on crossing the line to chaos.

My mom is moving in March. She is moving out of the 5 story home I grew up in, to a small condo. It has taken her over a year to go through everything, get rid of stuff and get ready for this move. It is going to be such a wonderful change. I can't imagine cleaning, paying electricity bills and caring for a house that size. My house is probably 1/4 the size and sometimes I am overwhelmed. I love that house, but I think she is going to feel so much lighter and freer when she no longer has so much stuff weighing her down.

Downsizing is coming (almost) at the right time fr my brother. She has a beautiful dining room table and chairs, a huge barbecue, and like, a million other things he will need for his house. She also has several things I really need like a new lawnmower and a nice bookshelf. There is also a bunch of our childhood stuff that we both want to keep, although we don't really have a use for (my gorgeous, but enormous doll house for example). Unfortunately, she is moving in March. He is probably not going to be ready to buy a house until the fall. Which means that my house is going to get even more packed with stuff in the next few weeks and I will have to deal with it until the fall.

I'm trying to make some organizational plans, while mentally preparing myself for the piles, boxes and corners piled with stuff. In three and a half months, I'm moving to camp for the summer. And then it will be the fall and (God willing) they will have found a house. So, really, this is temporary. I can tolerate it for 3 months, right?

Punching the Shark

At the training that I recently attended (see January 13 post "Inspired"), one of the topics was "Punch the Shark".

If you are ever in the ocean and a facing a down a shark, you must resist the urge to swim away, and instead, puff yourself up, swim straight towards the incoming shark and punch it in the nose.

The presenter learned that from watching shark week and later, saw an article about a man who had seen the same program, actually did it and saved his own life!

The topic of the presentation wasn't water safety (there aren't any sharks in lakes, although I have seen some big fish and I will attempt to punch them, given the opportunity). The topic was managing staff.

The presenter was making the point- stop avoiding unpleasant situations, instead, turn around and face them head on. Be direct, be intentional in your handling of it, and hopefully if you do those things, you will only have to deal with them once.

For some reason, the idea has really stuck with me. I like to think of myself as a person who deals with things, rather than avoiding them, but as I thought about it, there were several awkward conversations or unpleasant things that I could have been much more direct with last summer and in my daily life.

There are 4 or 5 of my staff from last summer who have already applied for this year, but who I don't think I will re-hire. This is not an organization that just sends out a form letter rejecting their application, and even if it was, after being on staff for a year or more, I think I owe them a conversation. I'm dreading those- they are going to end with tears or anger and I hate both of those things.

I had the first of those conversations last week. Prior to calling him, I actually printed out a picture of a shark to put in front of me. I was determined to be kind, but honest, direct, and not talk around topics or lose my nerve and avoid the negative stuff altogether.

It was uncomfortable and I squirmed around as I spoke, but (quicker than I'd expected) I found my confidence and the conversation went well. No tears, no anger, no confusion. I successfully punched the shark! I'm going to keep practicing and hopefully by the summer, I will be an expert!

Operation Purple

Three summers ago, we were accepted to the Operation Purple program. 100 fully paid campers was a HUGE addition to our summer and the board thought I was incredible. Last summer was our second go around except that instead of being a surprise addition to the budget, it was accounted for and thus, there was a lot more pressure to be accepted.

About 5 years ago, OPC received a grant from the Sierra Club, which fully funded the program and allowed it to double in size. It is a well run program, so when our final payment didn't come in when it was supposed to in September, I was surprised, but not worried. I was trying not to be demanding or difficult- I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize being accepted to the program again, but after months of emails and reassurances, by December, I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold my board back. Every exchange I'd had with OPC (and there had been MANY) was very pleasant, they were very reassuring and I was as wonderfully agreeable as I could be. I was a little concerned about the future of the program, but I applied for summer 2011 like normal and crossed my fingers everything would be okay, as OPC is now a HUGE chunk of my budget.

We eventually received our final payment and I anxiously awaited January 7, when we would receive acceptance letters.

January 7 I got an email asking applicants to be patient as they were pushing it back one week. Yikes! I had heard that line once or twice before.

But on Friday, I got the email I'd been waiting for and we'd once again been accepted. Except that instead of 110 campers, they were offering 50 campers.

I wasn't sure how that was going to go with the board. My board of directors has several very successful, powerful people. As we waited for our final payment, several times, they said, "I'd like to place a phone call and speak with someone at the organization" and each time, I had to talk them out of it, because the OPC staff don't know or care who they are and it wasn't going to do any good for them to use their reputations to "put in a call."

So instead of calling the board right away to let them know if we'd been accepted, I avoided their calls and sent OPC an email asking for more details. They sent me back a very nice email filled with helpful information and several compliments (being nice for several months of waiting obviously was not in vain).

Last year, 63 camps were selected. This year, 100 applied and only 31 were chosen. Camps served 10,000 campers last summer, this year, their goal is 3000. Whoa. Less than half. And we were selected. That is a great accomplishment, a huge compliment, and impressive, even if we are left with a bit of a budget crisis.

Once I had that information, it was a little easier to present to the board. They were very complimentary, although we haven't had a meeting to discuss the financials yet. I'm stressed out and pretty crabby that in recruiting this summer, I am basically starting at -50 kids, so I have a lot of ground to make up. I have some ideas and a few people to contact and possibly one or two tricks up my sleeve, so I'm not panicking yet.

I am hoping for the best and trying to remain confident and faithful that everything will work out.

Grad School...

This is my first real week of assignments for graduate school. I had my books, my laptop, my highlighter and my syllabus and I was prepared to sit down and read the assignments for the week.

Except...

They were, like, super boring.

So...

I drank half (who am I kidding, most of) a bottle of wine and googled "adorable bulldog pictures" instead.

I'm not so sure how this journey into higher learning is going to go. Perhaps tomorrow I will feel more studious...

Masters Degree

So getting my masters degree is going to be hard....

It turns out, there is a prerequisite that you must be smart enough to find your class before you can begin.

For my first semester, I am taking 6 credits to begin and see what I can handle while working full time. I am taking a 4 credit online class and a 2 credit class in person. Wednesday was supposed to be my first day going to that class.

I wasn't sure exactly where I was going because this particular class is not held on the main campus. I get lost a lot and I wasn't sure about traffic, so I left a full hour early. Google maps estimated it as a 20 minute drive, but ever since middle school, I've been the nerd who is super early for class, so I left myself plenty of time.

Traffic was a NIGHTMARE. It was an evening class and I didn't realize I would be going through a messy area of rush-hour. I couldn't believe how slow I was driving. When I finally spotted the building, it was 5 minutes until the beginning of my class. I wanted to be in class at least 10 minutes early, but I would still be on time, so I wasn't panicking.

The building was downtown, which I hate. I HATE downtown. Do you know why I hate downtown?!? Because there is no where to park. I drove around and around and around. And then I was lost, so I re-programmed my GPS, and then drove around and around some more. I couldn't even find an expensive ramp.

When I was 30 minutes late to class and still hadn't found a parking spot, I turned around and drove home. There is no possible way I could walk in to my first day of class 30 minutes late. I decided I would either switch into a different class that wasn't downtown during rush hour, or I would drop it.

I got home and found out the same class was offered online. Perfect. I dropped the class with no problem but couldn't register for the online class. The next day, I called the Registrar who told me I needed permission from the professor.

When I finally got int touch with the professor, he told me if I couldn't register online, it must be full and that I was already behind, so it would be difficult for me even if I could register.

Um...

The class technically started the day before, how behind could I be? And the Registrar told me that the online registration system was instant, and said instant system was showing three open spots. So, I didn't appreciate his attitude. I was polite, but I didn't hold back in my second email, as I outlined my frustration with his first response and request to have him get his act together and give me permission to register (that was what I was thinking but my email was worded much more professionally).

Having been away from school for a few years, I don't feel intimidated or in awe of professors the way I did as a 19 year old. In the 6 years I have been working, I have been yelled at enough to know about customer service and the proper way to respond to a crabby email (this professor did a poor job and if I was a camper parent, I would have lost it on him at this point). Working with a huge variety of people and companies, I have learned to negotiate, to problem solve, to be tough when I need to be, and I've overcome too many issues to just accept his lame answer.

Several emails later, he approved my registration.

Less than a week into the journey into higher education and I'm already hitting bumps. It might be an interesting road ahead...

Inspired

On Tuesday, the camping association group I am education chair of brought a big name speaker to lead a day-long training. In the camping community, he is a ROCK STAR.

I am a terrible driver. I get lost often (even going to places I've been a million times). My car smells like a wet bulldog. So why I was the person to pick him up and drive him an hour and a half to the training, is a mystery.

I borrowed my boyfriend's car, but that made me nervous because it is much nicer than mine. Also, I'm not super comfortable with his GPS. It snowed that morning and traffic was terrible. I spent the entire ride smiling, conversing with one of my idols, but secretly SCREAMING with anxiety inside my head. But we made it to our destination without any problems and having one on one time with him was AWESOME!

He started out as (and still is) a camp director. But now, in addition to that, he travels around the country to camping conferences and private workshops like ours.

It was super interesting to talk to him about his career. He liked leading trainings for staff (me too) and so he signed up to lead one at a camping conference (easy to do). At the end of it, he lied to the group and said, "I do this professionally and will come to your camp and lead a training. Let me know if you are interested." A lot of people were and from there, he was off and running. A few years later, he gets $2500, plus travel expenses for leading a 5 hour training. Whoa.

My ultimate career goal was to be an executive director of a camp. When I accomplished that goal at 26, I wasn't sure what my next step would be. I'm the type of person who always has a list of life goals that I am working towards and once you check, "land dream job" off the list, what's next? For the past three years, it's been, "do dream job well" and since this camp is in so much need of improvement, and I still have so much to learn, I know that I will busy working towards that goal for many years to come.

But it's an interesting prospect to think that at some point down the line, once I get the hang of my job and once I get this camp in order, there is a next step.

I learned so so many things during the training, but even more than that, I was inspired for my future. Did I mention he was a ROCK STAR?!?!

Kids These Days...

I volunteer for a YMCA program that brings 1400 teenagers (8th-12th grade) together in a downtown hotel for 4 days. When people hear me describe it, most often their reaction is to physically recoil and shudder as if you've just described the worst thing they could imagine. It's actually one of my most favorite events of the year and I look forward to it for months in advance. And while you might expect chaos from a situation such as that, it's a phenomenal program that is incredibly well run and there is very little nonsense that occurs.

There is a little nonsense though, and that's where I come in. My role at the conference is as a Hotel Director. There are 6 of us and we staff a room that is open 24 hours a day and deal with any kind of issue you can imagine, from small things like handing out band-aids or directing people where to go, to the major things like health issues or behavior problems.

One of the things that makes the program run as chaos-free as it does is a very clear code-of-conduct. It makes it clear what kids (and adults) can and can't do. One of the strict rules is that the kids (and adults too) are not allowed to go into each others' hotel rooms. From what I've heard, prior to this rule, there were issues with theft, messes, and an overall "hotel party" feel. Since then, the issues have gone down to nearly zero.

So on Saturday night, when we had to send 5 girls home because they were hanging out in each others' room, it was pretty straightforward. They knew the rule and that they would be sent home if they broke it.

I was nice about it. Their director was nice about it. There have been times in my career when an incident occurred and afterwards I knew I could have handled it differently. But this time I actually quite proud of myself for my firm, yet encouraging way I spoke with them. Working with kids is difficult because very situation is completely different and you don't always know what to say. Early on, there were times that it wasn't just that I could have said something better, it was that I probably actually made the situation worse. Now that I have more experience and actually say the right thing, it might be really lame to admit, but I feel a little impressed by the things I hear myself saying.

Which is why, when the last parent came to pick up her child, and she spent 20 minutes yelling at me, I was super annoyed. I have been yelled at by parents more than once. Sometimes I've even deserved it. That was not true this time.

She repeated over and over how embarrassing this would be and while I politely nodded, listened, empathized and said very little (did I mention that being yelled at a lot early on has made me totally awesome at dealing with crabby parents?!), in my head I was thinking, "Don't kill the messenger. If I was you, I'd be yelling this at my kid (the person who made the bad choice), not at the adult that enforced the rule."

Parents who make excuses for their kids make me want to scream. It doesn't do the kid any good- they will grow up without the ability to take responsibility for their actions. What she should have said to her daughter was, "you're not a bad person, but you made a bad choice. Let's have a discussion about what a better choice would have been and how you can make it th next time you are in this situation."

I don't have kids (and if you judge my child rearing ability on my incredibly naughty bulldogs, the outlook for my future offspring is bleak), but I kinda think I'm going to rock at it because I've had years of practice on other people's kids. Until then, I will continue to judge the parents of the kids with whom I work. It seems like a fair trade off since they will most likely be yelling at me as I judge.

First Day of School!

In my last post, I wrote that it had been my ultimate career goal to be an executive camp director, which I accidentally accomplished by the time I was 26. I say "accidentally" because I happened to be in the right place at the right time, rather than actually working my way up and being qualified for the job.

As a person who loves goals and needs to be moving towards something at all times, I decided that the next step should be to get a Masters degree and learn some of the things I probably should have known before I became and executive director. So today I begin my first class towards my masters in non-profit management. It's online, so it's a little less monumental than standing by the door, back-pack on, getting my photo taken on the first day of school, but it's the beginning.

When I was an undergrad, my goal was simply to get a degree and be a college graduate. I wanted to learn and I enjoyed my classes, but I didn't have a specific goal and didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, so the learning was pretty general. This time around, I am in class because I want to gain specific skills and apply the information to my current job. It's not about walking away with a degree, it's about growing and developing my ability.

A Death in the Family

I don't answer staff phone calls at night (especially after 11pm), but when Counselor B called three times in a row, I knew that I needed to answer it and that it wasn't going to be good.

She cried as she told me Counselor N had just called her to let her know Justin had died. A counselor for 2 years, he was one of the best staff I have worked with. He was always focused on the kids, creative, supportive to other staff, and genuinely seemed to enjoy himself in everything at camp. He was killed in a one car accident on Wednesday morning.

I was totally numb as I listened to her cry, as I called the other staff, as I answered phone call after phone call from hysterical staff until 3am. I watched, unable to turn it off, as every staff changed their facebook profile picture to his photo over the course of the next few hours.

I woke up earlier than usual the next morning and felt like I was in a daze as I headed into the office. Business Manager J hugged me and asked how I was. Numb. In disbelief.

I sent out an email to the camper families and then spent the morning answering emails, the phone and calling each of my staff to check in with them. I was blown away by how much response I received. I was overwhelmed by how much emotion people were expressing and how much people came together to express their concern and sadness.

Because Justin lives in another state, far away from us, I decided we needed to have a memorial service and it probably needed to happen as soon as possible to bring my staff together.

By the end of the day, I had a priest and church booked, the service planned, and had pulled all of the photos of him from the summer together into a nice slideshow. The mass was planned for Saturday. I emailed everyone again to let them know, and being that it was less than 48 hours away and scheduled for New Years Day, I wasn't sure how many people would be there, but we were ready.

On the morning of the mass, there were a million details to work out, the weather was making the roads icy, I was unsure of how many people would be there and overall, I was a bit of a mess. But we had 50 people- most of the staff, several campers and families, and it was clear right away that they needed to be together.

Many of the staff and campers wore tie dye. We sang upbeat praise and worship songs and had all of the staff and kids go up to the alter and do the motions for the final song together.

We showed the slideshow, which made people cry, but laugh a lot too. Afterwards, everyone gathered together for snacks and catching up. Eventually it was just the staff left, and we came together for a grape kool-aid toast (Justin's favorite) and then someone suggested a song, and so we circled up and sang and danced with as much spirit as we've ever had.

There were some tears, but overall, the day was fun (if you can say that about a memorial). And at the risk of sounding cliche, I think Justin would have appreciated it, and was probably smiling down over the whole thing.

We are not a fancy camp. And even after three years of hard work and significant improvements, we are still a bit of a mess financially. I still look around sometimes and wonder if I will have a job in the months ahead. But when I give my end of the week speech every Friday before the campers leave, I tell them that they are now part of the "Camp family". The Camp family is made up of 64 years worth of people who have been to camp, and even though it's changed, the community spirit has been the same all along. State of the art facilities and financial stability would be nice, but a community of people who can come together as a family in a time of difficulty is by far the greatest example of excellence I could ever imagine and I am incredibly proud to lead this community.

Christmas Party!

Summer staff begin training as strangers, not really sure of each other, unsure if they belong or if they made the right choice in coming to the woods for three months. By the end of the summer, they have spent 24/7, working, playing, hanging out, supporting each other through frustration and exhaustion, and have developed a bond that is unlike any of their other relationships. They hug and cry and cling to each other- now unsure how they will survive without being surrounded by this new family they've only known for 3 months, but feel so connected to.

In the weeks following camp, I get lots of emails and phone calls as staff adjust back to real life. It's not always easy- their friends and family don't understand what a life changing 3 months they've had and the rest of the staff is spread around the state and country, back to school and their real lives.

By the time Christmas rolls around, most people are back to their normal life and the ache from missing camp has faded.

For the past 2 years, I have hosted a Christmas party/ staff reunion. Both years I have made a big dinner, fabulous dessert and bought the cutest party gifts (last year it was photo flip books and this year was a gingerbread house box filled with a variety of goodies, including an ornament, candy, etc.). I also made several batches of gingerbread and icing so that everyone could make gingerbread houses. It's a lot of work, but I actually really like the planning and whole production of it.

Besides the preparation, my real motivation is the "ah ha" moment I know the majority of the staff will have. They develop such close relationships and then they mount the loss of camp, and by Christmas, they are wondering if it was really as important as they thought it was.

The first three staff arrived early and as I hugged and greeted them, Counselor B burst into tears. She'd flown across the country to be at the party and she just couldn't believe she was back! Each staff member after the first group was greeted by a deafening shout as the door opened and everyone celebrated the latest arrival. It was pure excitement and so fun to stand back and watch. I watched their faces flood with emotion and I could almost see their thoughts as they came together for the first time since the summer.

Halfway through the night, Counselor M leaned over to Counselor H and said, "I can't believe we're all here. It feels like we were never apart." Bingo! THAT is the reason I work so hard to bring them back together. The relationships that are built at camp are unlike any others they have and even months apart doesn't take away the connection. It's an incredible feeling of belonging, of being truly understood and feeling complete. Being able to facilitate the makes my job the greatest in the world.

And that, is truly the reason for the season. Merry Christmas.

Emerging Leader

The American Camping Association has 24 "sections" across the country which provide training and educational opportunities, manage the accreditation process, etc. Last spring, the VP of camp's section asked me to "help out" with the education committee, and that turned into me becoming the chair and joining the board of directors for the section.

One of my earliest memories from my childhood camp experience was along the sidelines of a day camp field. A huge group of kids was playing and while I had zero interest in joining the game, I distinctly remember standing next to the counselor, my arms crossed, thinking, "I don't wanna play, but I would like to be in charge of this." I desperately wanted a taste of the power that comes from holding a clipboard. That feeling never went away, and (even when I resist) I almost always end up in some sort of leadership or organizational position of every activity of which I get involved.

The board of directors is made up of several very experienced, successful camp directors, whose careers I admire and aspire to someday emulate. I am honored to be able to work with and learn from them.

Yesterday, as we reviewed the budget, I was doing my best to follow along and pay attention. But the entire page was filled with column after column of numbers and the only thing I could think of was a song I was making up~ "this is boring, this is boring, blah blah blah, blah blah blah..." And then I remembered I had gum in my purse and got excited. When I reached for the gum, I found a cool pen, and then the song turned into, "cooooooooool pen! Yeah yeah..."

As I sat, singing my song and day dreaming about glitter, all of a sudden, I snapped back into reality, looked around the room at everyone nodding, jotting notes and saying things like, "fiscal year blah blah" and I felt like a little kid who'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I self consciously wondered if anyone noticed how unqualified I was and I was genuinely concerned that I was going to get scolded like a naughty camper. I was relieved to see that no one seemed to notice me disinterest, but I was worried that perhaps I was actually a child, trapped in an adult's body. And then I started to worry that at some point, faking my way through the "grown up things" I don't care about was going to get me in trouble.

The meeting ended and I felt stressed out and worried about my fate as an adult. After the meeting, it was time for the annual celebration of the year for everyone in the section. Committee leaders gave the highlights of the year, the president spoke, and re-accredited camps gave presentations on their successes. Volunteers and board members were recognized with certificates and then, to my surprise, the vice president of the board announced that they would be handing out an award.

I was surprised because, as Education Chair, I'd done a majority of the planning for the event. Earlier, when we had reviewed the schedule of the day, I'd asked her about the award and she'd said, "we aren't giving anything out this year." So when she got up and described the "emerging leadership" award and then announced my name, my mouth dropped open like a pageant winner. I was still stressed out about not being a competent adult and genuinely surprised to be recognized by so many people I admire.

I received a very nice plaque, which, I hope, will inspire me to pay better attention the next time we discuss the budget or anything else I struggle to find interesting. Perhaps this is just the inspiration I need...

Update

I've heard from my readers (all three of you) and I am sorry that I haven't updated this blog recently. During the summer, I am constantly busy with a nonstop roller coaster adventure that is running a camp. I am surrounded by silly kids, crazy staff and every minute is out of a dream. Needless to say, I have a lot of stories to tell. Additionally, I don't have much time, so I don't have the opportunity to talk on the phone and keep everyone up to date on what's going. And so I am an active blogger.

Fall, Winter and Spring are less eventful. I love working in my office, preparing for camp and enjoying shorter, less intense hours than the summer. I have a nice, drama free relationship with a wonderful boyfriend. I have a great family and fabulous friends. I like to spend my free time crafting, cooking, reading, running. I like to volunteer. My life is awesome. But not particularly interesting. So I haven't had much to write about. Also, I talk to the majority of my readers on a daily (for sure a weekly) basis. So you know what's going on.

But I miss blogging and my dream of authoring a hilarious memoir is never going to come true if I don't practice writing. When I began this blog three years ago, I had just bought a house in the city and I imagined myself alternating between camp life in the wilderness (granola) and in the off season being Carrie Bradshaw (a la Sex in the City), sipping pretty pink cosmopolitans while wearing heals at a trendy club (cosmos). Apparently I was planning on writing fiction, because I'm not so much the trendy, clubbin' type of gal, as I am a sweatpant wearing, crazy dog lady.

So I'm embracing that part of my life and for your reading pleasure, please visit my newest blog- http://bulldogbrigade3.blogspot.com/ where you can keep up with my non-cosmo, non-granola adventures (I will continue to update this blog as well). Happy reading!

Griffin

In June, when Griffin got sick the first time, the vet (a bulldog expert and multiple award winner in his field) warned me that it would be the first of many trips to see him because Grif is a sick dog. I cried and I agonized and I debated my options with every person I know.

Surgery #1 was successful and he got better and I fell a little more madly in love with him every day.

Surgery #2 was a necessary follow up and he did well.

He has been on antibiotics since June, but he still gets sick. We've done hundreds of dollars worth of tests and they all come back clear. He continues to be the sweetest, most lovable puppy around.

After the last vet visit, another huge sum of money, a sick dog and seemingly no end in sight, I emailed the bulldog rescue representative. I didn't want to get rid of him, but I hadn't slept through the night in weeks and I kept bursting into tears whenever I looked at him.

She and I spoke on the phone for a long time. She said he didn't sound adoptable, which meant I could keep him or put him to sleep. She suggested I call the vet again and have him call her to discuss Griffin's health and they could figure out what the best recommendation would be.

Yesterday the vet let me know that Griffin could have palate surgery. 9 times out of 10, dogs with his same issues have this surgery and never get sick again. He's not sick enough to put to sleep but he's got too many issues to be adoptable, so it's either live with a constantly sick dog or surgery. $1300, although the vet offered to do it for $800 (perhaps because I gasped when he said $1300, or maybe because Griffin is particularly adorable and pathetic, I don't know).

I'm not thrilled with writing another huge check, but I don't see another option and I'm hopeful this could be the solution. He's going in on Monday, so I we'll know soon...

Part 2- Rage

Bleeding heart liberal... until my car window was smashed and my purse stolen. Now I'm mad... no, now I'm RAGING.

On Sunday, my roommates and I took the three dogs to the dog park. Ordinarily, I wouldn't being my purse with me because I obviously know better than to leave my purse in my car. However, I was in between errands and honestly, didn't even think about it. When we got there, I put it under the seat and figured that in a busy parking lot, in the middle of the afternoon, it would be fine.

When we returned to the car an hour later, my window was shattered and my purse was gone. As I waited for the police to arrive, the gas station down the block also called the police because they saw a man filling up his gas tank throw a purse into the garbage can. Apparently cars get broken into several times a week at this park (news to me), so the gas station is used to this sort of thing.

The officer arrived with my purse (minus my credit cards, ID, camera, and gum, but still containing my lip gloss, old papers, etc), filed a report and then my roommates, dogs and I headed home. And I have been fuming ever since.

I'm mad at myself for leaving my purse in my car, but I am also mad because I should be able to leave my purse in my car. Because they are MINE. How dare he... what would ever make him think it was okay to do that? Does he have no decency? The gas station attendant saw a black man throw my purse away. And all I can think is, "congratulations dude, you are a complete cliche. Seriously? Pull up your pants, go get a job and stop perpetuating the stereotype." I don't feel like my normal bleeding heart liberal self. And I'm mad about that. Because I am the first person to argue against stereotypes, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to look beyond someone's race or gender to approach with an open mind.

I'm also mad that I had to drive around for 2 days with no window and then I had to spend $240 to have my window replaced. Not to mention $2osomething to replace my ID, 17 phone calls to get a new bank account and new cards. And then there's my stolen camera (I hope he enjoys the 57 pictures and videos of my dogs), stolen wallet, oh, and did I mention my stolen hope? Yeah, because he took that too.

I realize that his life probably sucks and he was probably desperate and, while annoying and violating, this won't really affect my life long term. I realize that I should read and re-read "Part 1- Idealism" because while this was his fault, I have conflicted feelings about how much blame and hatred I can actually assign to this individual....

Except that I'm really mad. I can't stop thinking about how unacceptable this was. How, no matter what kind of difficult life you've had, in no way is it okay to break someone else's window and take something that doesn't belong to you. I keep thinking of the terrible things I would like to say to him. And for possibly the first time ever, I totally understand the opposite view point (does anti-bleeding heart liberal have a name?). I understand the viewpoint that, "I work hard for my money, I don't want it to go towards helping people who can't help themselves." Sorry poor people, you're on your own.

*Sigh*

Even in my rage, I can freely admit that my education, my job, my house, car, purse, and everything else in life that I have earned, was earned with the support of my family, neighbors, and greater community. I didn't get to this place in life on my own. I was given incredible opportunities from the time I was young, supported through everything and lucky enough to grow up in a culture of success. Education wasn't a choice. Working hard wasn't a choice. College, getting a job, making something of myself- none of those were choices. Those things were givens- just what you do. I didn't become who I am because I am a superior human being to the purse snatcher. I was just lucky enough to be born into a world where success was expected from birth... The same way that he was (probably) born into a world where a crime is, if not expected, at least common. How much can I really fault him?

There is a war inside of me between my feelings of wanting to change the world one person at a time, with a new found desire to direct all charitable giving funds towards a giant wall- behind which we can send all of the loser criminals to live and destroy each other, leaving the res of us (productive members of society) to live in peaceful harmony. I'm not sure which will win...

Part 1- Idealism

Ordinarily, I would proudly consider myself a bleeding heart liberal. I believe in helping others. I believe that it takes a village to raise a child and that we have a duty to help one another, regardless of how much someone "deserves" help or not. Nothing in life is equal and I think that part of the responsibility of having more is to use your wealth, power or influence to help others. I am happy to make sacrifices for the betterment of the community overall. Isn't that the whole idea behind community? I love community- people coming together, sharing resources, strength in numbers.

My conservative boyfriend tells me I am the most idealist person he's ever met. I am an optimist. I believe in hope. I grew up in a wonderful family, in a nice neighborhood, went to great schools, was given every opportunity and, until my 20s, never even considered that there was an alternative to "anything is possible if you can dream". Warm and fuzzy? Yes, probably, but when your entire existence is filled with supportive, loving people, opportunities, and everything is presented with a side of sugar and glittery pixie dust, it's difficult not to have hope.

Not everyone grows up the way that I did. When a child grows up in a tough neighborhood, without positive role models, and where crime, violence and disrespect are part of the everyday culture, and where emphasis is not placed on education, responsibility, or morality- that child is at a disadvantage. When it's not just one child, but an entire community of children, who go on to have their own children, and so on and so on, it becomes a culture of poverty. An entire group of people who are lacking in values, have limited resources and an entirely different outlook on the world.

"Right" and "wrong", honesty, responsibility and making good choices have been instilled in me since I was learning to walk and talk. Sometimes I may sometimes struggle to do the right thing, but there's really no excuse for me to make wrong, irresponsible, dishonest choices because I know what is appropriate.

If you grow up surrounded by crime, without role models, without consequences and your parents and neighbors have grown up that way, and you are completely surrounded by that identity, is it really possible to know right from wrong? I'm not saying that people have no opportunities to learn about rules, or develop a sense of morality. And I'm not saying it's acceptable to be a criminal. But I think if I were to steal someone's purse, it would be more shocking, more unbelievable and somehow more reprehensible than the guy who grew up surrounded by disorder. Right and wrong have been instilled in me since birth, so I have NO excuse to commit a crime, whereas, the guy who's whole life has been chaos is pretty much doomed to replicate the same behavior.

A crime is a crime, and all people should be held to the same standard, but how realistic is it to put two people in entirely opposite circumstances and expect them to behave in the same way.

Camp Or Bust...

Last fall, I went to camp and the leaves were vibrant, the weather was crisp and it was so peaceful and perfect, I vowed that this fall, I would spend a whole week enjoying it.

My schedule didn't allow for a whole week, but Wednesday-Saturday, I was back to camp for the first time since the summer. I had piles of work, my camera, my running shoes, my vest and other outdoor clothes. I envisioned four perfect days of a restful, yet productive retreat into the woods. I planned to start every day with a long run, spend ample time crunching through the leaves photographing camp in Autumn. And the cool air would refresh and motivate me to tackle some projects that have been sitting on my desk for a long time. It was going to be the perfect combination of rest, work, quiet reflection, relaxation, and enjoying my beloved camp.

Recently my house has become slightly more chaotic with the addition of a third canine member of our family- no, I didn't get another dog, but my brother did, so now Olivia and Griffin have a cousin. Buddha is 15 pounds, but he faces down all 120 pounds of bulldog as if he were ten times his size. Actually, the three of them play quite nicely together, but it is still three barking, running, needy dogs that make life a little louder and a little muddier. I have washed my floors about a million times in the past few weeks and I can't seem to get my house to as clean as I would like. It's driving me crazy.

It's been good to be back to my office- I have several projects going at once and I am eager to jump in to 2011 planning. But for the past few weeks, I haven't seemed to make any progress- I work a lot, but I haven't been able to cross anything off my list. It's driving me crazy.

My boyfriend is wonderful, we are going to Vegas in a few days. But he is driving me crazy.

The craziness is actually probably less to do with all of those things and more to do with the fact that I have been sick for three weeks now. Yes, THREE weeks. I have bronchitis, or at least, that's what we think. I've been to the doctor twice. I've downed 4 bottles of cough medicine and I'm on antibiotics. But still, I have been hacking uncontrollably like an old man who has smoked his whole life.

I was excited that I had this time at camp planned and on Wednesday, I eagerly jumped in my car and headed for a much needed break.

Except...

It rained almost the entire time I was at camp (the sun was bright as I packed my car to leave).

Olivia whined the entire time I was at camp- no amount of playing outside (in the rain), treats, toys or cuddling made her stop.

Both Olivia and Griffin insisted on being on my lap every time I sat down (120 pounds of bulldog is just 15 pounds less than me, but that was how we sat, over and over again).

I was not motivated to work, didn't go for even one run, didn't take any photos, and I continued to cough nonstop.

Now I'm home and possibly feeling more tense than before.

Bust.

Mice

Mice are an every day occurrence at camp. Before I moved my office, I used to start every day by bringing my garbage can outside and releasing the mouse (or mice) that had fallen in overnight and were scratching around. The kitchen and health center are both kept very clean and mouse free, my house, the staff house and cabins are all pretty clear of mice, but many of the other buildings have mouse visitors regularly, so, at this point in life, it's not a big deal to me to see a mouse.

Last Spring, before heading off to camp, I had a ferocious battle with the smartest mouse on the planet who was happily living in my kitchen and making me crazy. My experiences at camp have made me pretty tolerant of vermin (probably more so than is normal), but a mouse in a kitchen is not acceptable and a mouse that destroys box after box of Costco sized bulk groceries had to die.

Last night I was at my boyfriend's house and as we sat together in the living room, we saw a flash of brown fur scurry across the kitchen floor and under the oven. Ugh! Another mouse! I will never escape!

BF's parents were over and so the four of us discussed mouse trap options. I had tried, unsuccessfully to use a live trap to humanely capture and relocate my mouse. When that failed, I set several of the standard bait and snap traps. As I mentioned above, I had the smartest mouse alive and he managed to avoid those as well, so eventually I resorted to poison, which I really didn't want to do, but successfully left me mouse-free.

BF is a fan of the sticky traps. I think they are the least humane option of all because once the mouse is caught, you just throw it away, stuck, but still alive.

As we had this discussion, I excused myself to use the bathroom. The living room leads to a little cove (not even enough space to be called a hallway) which has doors for two bedrooms, a small linen closet and the bathroom. The living room light was on, but not the light in that area, so it was kind of dark.

In a split second (although, in my memory, I can remember every millisecond), I realized the mouse was sitting in the cove. I squeaked (in a very annoying girly startled way) and jumped out of the way, but in doing so, I startled the mouse, who also flinched. As we both moved, my foot (I was wearing shoes) landed on top of the mouse, and I could feel a sickening crunch.

At that point, I made a louder squeak and said, "oh my gosh, oh my gosh". When I turned on the light, there was a long streak of blood and a flattened mouse. I continued to squeak "oh my gosh, oh my gosh" until BF arrived with the dustpan and broom. Except that instead of cleaning it up, he just danced around and started making sissy noises, which snapped me back into reality. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and elbowed him out of the way. I scooped up the little body, saying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm an animal lover!", told BF to clean up the crime scene mess I'd left, and went outside to throw the mouse in the garbage can.

BF doesn't have a mouse anymore.

A few thoughts-

I keep having terrible flashbacks of the crunch. That was awful.

If that scenario had happened and I wouldn't have had shoes on, I think I would have fainted.

If I had intentionally tried to step on a mouse, I would never, in a million years, been able to be quick enough to catch it. That was a fluke- we startled each other, had the same reaction and panic knocked both of us into the exact same place.

I feel really terrible about being a killer, however, of all the mouse-removal options we'd discussed, I think this was the quickest, least painful, most humane way for him to go. So I guess I should take comfort in that.

Playing the Game

98% of the time in my job, I can do anything I want, when I want, how I want, without asking anyone. I love the flexibility. I don't know if I will ever be able to re-adjust to how the majority of the population works now that I have been in this situation. Once or twice a month September-May, the Board of Directors pops into my life. Sometimes I run things by them, but mostly I don't. Most of our relationship is me telling them what I've been up to and them telling me I'm awesome. Every now and then they make suggestions or ask me for something or give me advice but I can't think of any examples off the top of my head where I had to do something I didn't want to because they told me I had to.

From that description, it is clear why this camp has had so many troubles in the past. Abusing the freedom would be easy. But luckily for me and for the Board, I am passionate and committed and I don't abuse the freedom. In my opinion, everyone is winning in this scenario. Camp is succeeding, the Board doesn't have to worry or put much effort into things and I have my dream job!

The President of the Board (Pres) is a wonderfully kind, supportive man. He runs a major bank. He has two personal assistants (one of which is also on the Board). The last time I went to his office, one of the assistants brought us drinks in the conference room. She brought him a Diet Pepsi. He'd asked for a Diet Coke. When she told him that the company fridge didn't have any, he reminded her there was a machine downstairs. She took away the Pepsi and returned a few minutes later with Coke.

Pres wasn't demanding or condescending and his assistant didn't seem upset. In my line of work, we carry our own plastic water bottles and if beverages are available at meetings, they are set out at a table and you get whatever is there. But that's the way it is with him, probably not just at the office, but in life.

The first year and a half or so of working at camp, Pres drove me insane. I wasn't used to working for someone who is used to being waited on, doted on and the center of the universe. As I said before, I have almost complete freedom with most of camp (programming, staffing, etc), but anything involving the Board, Board members or organization policy has to involve him.

I learned quickly that if I need his participation in something, it's not as easy as making a proposal and him approving it. What needs to happen is this: propose the idea somewhere between 3-6 times, including all details, written documentation, etc. He will appear to listen but he won't take in anything I am saying until the 5th or 6th time it comes up, at which point, he will "have an idea" and will repeat (usually verbatim) what I have been talking to him about as if the idea just came to him out of the blue.

This process drives Business Manager J INSANE. She hates that he doesn't listen in the first place and tries to point out that it's not his idea and we already talked to him about it a million times. And then when he doesn't acknowledge that, she gets even more enraged. It used to drive me crazy too. I felt invisible, unappreciated and disrespected as a human being. I felt outraged and wasn't sure I could work in such an unacceptable environment.

And then I stepped back and looked at my job overall. And I realized 98% of the time in my job, I am completely on my own doing whatever I want and LOVING every minute of it. 1% of my job is me reporting what I am doing to the Board and them telling me I'm awesome and to keep doing whatever I want to do. And 1% is annoying and frustrating.

Every job has positive and negative and the best you can do is find a job where the ratio of good is greater than bad. I'm not going to do better than 99% good.

And so instead of feeling outraged or offended by Pres, I decided to work with my situation. I repeat whatever it is I need from him the required 3-6 times and then when he repeats it back to me, I respond with, "that is a great idea! We will get to work on this right away!" He's happy, I get what I want and life is good. It's called "playing the game".

Even more frustrating to J than Pres not listening to her is the fact that I play this game with him and give him all the credit. She wants me to go back to being outraged, fight him, and spend hours ranting and raving about the injustice of women being looked down on and not acknowledged and blah blah blah...

Yesterday at our Board meeting this happened with something so inconsequential to my life, I can't even remember. This morning, I called to let J know I would be working from home because I was feeling sick, she started ranting and raving and going on about how upset she's been since yesterday and how disrespected she feels and how she doesn't understand why he doesn't notice how capable and qualified we are.

It was 10:15am and I was wearing sweatpants on my couch, drinking coffee at leisure while checking my email. I was having a difficult time agreeing with her argument against the working conditions of the organization.

Yes, I am a proud, strong woman who expects to have my opinions heard and matter. But this man is SUPER nice, compliments us constantly on what a great job we are doing and backs up his words by giving me complete control and freedom, expressing his trust and respect with his actions, not just words. Yes, he's sort of oblivious and self centered sometimes. No, I couldn't work with him on a regular basis. But he isn't that way on purpose and I know he isn't going to change. "Playing the game" doesn't mean that I'm not standing up for myself or that I'm compromising my self worth. In playing, it is important to know when to rely on strength and when it is better to use strategy.

Thus far, being strategic has made it possible to use my couch for an office. If there were points awarded in the game of life, I would clearly be ahead...

Catching Up

When I write blog entries, I always sort of imagine that I am typing to no one and that this blog is mostly for me to remember all the fun stories that get lost in the hectic schedule of the summer.

But apparently I have "fans". And apparently my fans are upset that I haven't been writing. So I'm back...

The problem is that I don't really have anything interesting to talk about anymore.

August 22- I spent the morning frantically cleaning, keeping the dogs out of the house and around the time every single person who was "up north" for the weekend decided to head home, I did too. I fought the traffic and wished I was still at peaceful quiet camp. When I got home, there was a 20 degree temperature difference and my delicate bulldogs immediately overheated and were forced inside to the air conditioning. They wanted to be back at camp, wandering free, cool breeze running through their fur. I felt guilty and also annoyed by their whining.

My annoyance continued because my house was a mess, the weeds in the backyard up to my waste and no food in sight. I was trying to be excited to see my boyfriend and roommates and be home, but I thought about getting back in the car and going back to camp several times.

The first week home was a whirlwind (as it always is). I spent a lot of time organizing (my house, my boyfriend's house, my office...), shopping, sitting around. I have two entirely different lives- both of which I love. Some people aren't happy at all, so it seems kind of spoiled and bratty to whine about having so much goodness. But it is difficult to re-adjust to a whole different existence- my stuff is in different places, my schedule completely different.

The dogs have spent most of the past 3 weeks pouting and looking like tortured little pound puppies, less than satisfied with my fenced in, small city yard, the fact that my door is not open from morning until night, and that they don't have constant attention from hoards of children.I have been doing my best to give them attention, bring them to the park to let them run free in the trees and I've been leaving my back door open as much as possible. They have the most pampered lives of any animals (better than some people actually), and yet, I feel terribly guilty when they look at me like poor, neglected, caged in, unloved animals (the fact that they sleep with their heads on my pillow, covers up to their little chins, spend every minute of the day playing with piles of toys, chewing on treats and are treated like royalty doesn't make me feel less guilty from taking them from camp).

After a week of adjusting I went back to work on August 30. 310 days or so until summer 2011. I started with updating my month by month to do list and then spent the week reading camper and parent evaluations, looking through 8000 (or more) photos from the summer and laying out next year's weeks, themes and prices. Early Bird registration begins October 1, so the turn around is really fast. I think most people who ask the standard, "so what do you do the rest of the year" would be surprised how early planning actually starts.

This week I have met with the Board of Directors twice, continued with lists of lists, updating paperwork so that we can get the website ready for registration. My staff have begun emailing more and more- the novelty of being home, seeing friends and starting school is wearing off, and they are beginning to ache for camp in a way they never expected.

I've also been spending lots of time with the BF, eagerly catching up on my beloved MTV reality tv shows, running daily, tanning regularly, reading books, seeing friends and sitting... just sitting, doing nothing, soaking in the quiet. I went to the State Fair, took a weekend road trip 4 hours south to visit my best friend, and am planning a trip to Vegas for the end of the month.

None of those things make for very good blog entries.

I will try to be more interesting in the next few days...

See Ya Next Year

A few days ago, one of the kids asked me if I was going to cry when camp ended. I told her that I would be sad because I would miss the kids and the staff and all the fun, but no, I wouldn't cry. There were several years in the 11 summers that I have spent August and September totally hysterical. You're only together 3 months, but the relationships you build with the staff are so intense. That, combined with exhaustion of having to be so energetic all summer, make for some emotional goodbyes.

Since this became my full time job, it's a little less emotional to say goodbye. I know that in approximately 310 days (but who's counting?), camp will begin again. It will include both new and old faces, and there will be new adventures (and challenges), but it will be essentially the same. So, no, I won't cry, but I am sad to see it end.

Last night, after the last staff had checked out and driven away, my dad and I went out to dinner. We ordered shrimp cocktail, steak and I drank a big margarita. Afterwards, I sat on the couch for several hours- content to do absolutely NOTHING and be responsible for NO ONE!

Camp is clean, organized, packed and mostly ready for the winter. I have 27 lists of things to do in the fall, but for the next week, I am on vacation! Today, I will lay in the sun and tan myself until I look like a football. At some point I will pack my room and my office, clean the house and walk around and touch every building one last time.

Tomorrow I will load 100 pounds of baby bulldog in my car and make the trek back to the city. I am excited to see my boyfriend regularly, hang out with my roommates, get my hair cut, and jump in to planning for summer 2011. Summer is over, bring on the fall!!

BAT!

11:15 knocks on my door always mean something interesting. Last night was no exception.

Counselor B, "We have a bat in our cabin! Don't worry, the girls are calm and I managed to get them to not scream, but WE HAVE A BAT IN OUR CABIN!"

I calmly put on my shoes and headed over to find all 10 twelve year olds with their heads under their covers. I realized about halfway between my house and the cabin that I had come completely empty handed, so I wasn't really sure what my plan was, but how difficult could it be to shoo out a little bat?!

I located the golf ball sized bat quickly and with confidence, climbed onto the top bunk, tee shirt in hand, prepared to grab him and toss him outside gently. But when I reached for him, he opened his tiny little mouth and went from being cute and harmless to something from all of the trendy vampire shows and movies.

I yelped, dove for cover and decided to re-think my plan, however, in doing so, I must have spooked the little guy and he started flying around the room. I attempted to throw the tee shirt on him mid-air, but I missed, and then he started swooping.

At breakfast this morning, several of the counselors told me they heard, "eeeeeeeeeekkkkk" followed by girls giggling, me shouting to Counselor B to "do something". As I cowered in the top bunk, hands over my head, I thought, "this is NOT how I saw this turning out!"

After a few warning swoops and laps around the room, he landed. Regaining my composure, I grabbed a bucket of markers, dumped it onto the floor (I wasn't trying to be dramatic, but probably was), and trapped him. Counselor B came with the dust pan and we managed to get him off the wall, into our bat-trap and then we carried him outside to be released back into the wild.

I will be adding "wildlife specialist" to my resume this morning.

Bannock

Because a few staff had to leave early for school, scheduling was a little creative this week. There is always a mistake here or there, so it wasn't surprising yesterday afternoon when we realized that we had scheduled Counselor E to be in 2 places at once this morning. "Who can we have teach his boys sports?" The answer was me. Me and ten 10 year old boys playing a sport...

I like to lead activities and I enjoy the opportunity to hang out with kids. But I'm not an athlete, I don't know how to play sports and I was totally at a loss of what I was going to do with them. I briefly considered googling the rules of soccer and then I decided I would rather rip all of my hair out than play that, so I came up with the best plan of all. I switched with Counselor N who was supposed to teach them fire building first hour. He taught them sports first and I took over plans for fire building 101. It was a win win since he was dreading that activity.

Instead of just building a fire, I decided we should cook something too. After all, what's the point of a fire without doing something with it? So I decided we would make bannock.

I've heard of bannock many times, but I can't say that I've ever actually made it myself. However, with google, self confidence and the right spirit, no one knew this was a first time thing.

3 cups flour, 2 tablespoons baking powder, a little bit of salt, a little bit of butter and some water. I decided to also have them add cinnamon too. I mixed the dry ingredients first and we divided them into ziplocks and then added water. I found a HUGE frying pan in the camping supply shed and grabbed a big container of Crisco from the kitchen.

Once the kids had mixed the dough in their ziplocks, we cut the corner off and squeezed it onto the frying pan. I'd also brought a big bag of powdered sugar, because I could pretty much eat anything covered in powdered sugar.

The bannock turned out sort of like a pancake, with more of a bread texture. I was SHOCKED that it actually tasted really good (I'd expected something like cardboard). The boys loved it and kept saying, "I'm so glad we signed up for this activity". The dogs loved it because they got to eat all of the scraps and I loved it because it wasn't soccer!

I have been in the office a lot this summer. Between ACA re-certification and Operation Purple paperwork, I feel like the summer has passed me by in a mess of paper and emails. I miss leading activities, doing special things with kids and actually having fun. I'm sad that it is the last week and this is one of the first times I have done anything active. I am going to try to make more of an effort to schedule those times into my day next year. And yes, I am already beginning the countdown to summer 2011.

Lead Staff

Being a Lead Staff means that you don't get scheduled breaks, you don't get a night off, you need to pay attention to every detail, every staff, every camper and do anything that needs to get done, whenever you see it. It also means that you have to be my sounding board for random ideas, take care of my dogs, and any other random thing that could possibly happen at camp.

And yet, for some reason, this position is COVETED. It has become glorified and mythical. I don't really understand, but all everyone can talk about this week is becoming Lead Staff, who will be Lead Staff, what it means to be Lead Staff... I want to pull my hair out and scream.

I don't talk about staffing next summer until February. Anyone who vows they will be back, probably will have something come up at the last minute. Anyone who walks out swearing they will never be back, around October, will change their minds. College students' lives change so much that there is absolutely no point in talking about this right now.

But I can't escape it! Staff keep cornering me, asking to meet to discuss next summer. Everywhere I go I hear rumblings. About half the staff have plans of returning as Lead Staff next year. It's driving me insane!!!!!!

Crying

I had heard rumblings that some of the staff were feeling stressed out. Boy/girl problems, stuff from home, end of the summer burnout... I wasn't exactly sure, so I pulled Counselor A, then Counselor Jo, then Counselor Ju, then Counselor N. Each had the same response to my question of, "how's it going?" "AWFUL".

They all have the same personality of wanting to help, wanting to fix things and of taking on other people's stress. So it wasn't just that they were dealing with personal things, it was much bigger than that.

Several people had ridden the bus home this weekend, and when it returned on Sunday afternoon, the staff all looked rough. Each time I asked how they were doing, the response was verging on tears. After a long, tear-filled conversation with Counselor M, I decided I needed to bring them all together.

I told Assistant PD A that I was going to have an emergency staff meeting during evening chapel and she would be on her own with the kids. She looked a little panicky and I missed S a lot at that moment. But she made a plan and acted confident and did well.

I took the 12 staff I have left and we sat in a circle and talked. 10 weeks ago, they were strangers and when I told them they would be a family by the end, they looked skeptical. It is difficult to adjust to being with people 24/7, but now, 10 weeks later, they don't know how to be alone. They just spent 10 weeks being challenged, pushed to exhaustion, having fun and going though a life hanging experience. Their friends at home won't understand and won't really care about their stories. As they looked at each other, they know that these are the people who know exactly what they are thinking and feeling without words. They share so many inside jokes and memories, there is no comparison to anything else.

As I described what they were feeling, one by one, they burst into tears. They were holding hands, sobbing, clinging to each other. I reminded them that no one was dying and that they would see each other again. That their relationships would change, but it would be okay. I also reminded them that they have a whole week together and that the best thing would be to throw themselves into it and live it up! Don't spend the week dwelling on the end- have as much fun as possible.

As we stood together and said a prayer, literally every single one of them was crying. I know the feeling, I have mourned the loss of summer many years in a row. I hugged a few of them, once again reminding them that it isn't over yet. I am not surprised by their reaction. And I am happy to see they have had such a powerful experience. Camp is a life changing experience. I say it all the time, but then there are moments like that and it is so clear how much of an affect camp has.

Employment Contract

Hunter is a 9 year old camper this week. We were at the beach and he told me he wanted to work for camp. I told him he could come back as a staff in 2020. He asked me if I could guarantee it.

I told him I'd draw up a contract and bring it to him.

And so I did.

EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT

August 13, 2010

Re: Hunter J. M - Employment Status

This contract between Hunter J. M and Camp guarantees employment beginning June 1, 2020.

As per agreement, Mr. M must meet the following conditions to remain eligible:

• Mr. M will continue to do well in school, try his hardest and graduate from high school.
• Mr. M will be kind and helpful to all members of his family.
• Mr. M will be a responsible and productive member of his community (including church, school, neighborhood and anywhere else he spends time).

If the above conditions are met, Mr. M will be hired by Camp.

I agree to the conditions of this contract:

________________________________ _________________

Hunter J. M Date

________________________________ _________________

Executive Director- Camp Date

________________________________ _________________

Witness Date

The contract was on camp letterhead and very official looking. I had him sign 2 copies- one for him (which I put in an official file folder and let him take home) and one for me. His counselor signed it as the witness.

In our dining hall, we have a "staff hall of fame" wall. Program Director S made a giant grid of 2x2 squares. The years we have been at camp, she painted with the tee shirt logo and bright colors and then filled in the staff names. The ones for the next 20 years or so are blank except for the year in the middle. I let Hunter sign his name on the 2020 square.

My ultimate dream would be to be at camp long enough to see kids move from the youngest group of campers, all the way through to staff. It's a long shot that Hunter will continue coming to camp, but how cool would it be if he ends up as a staff and sees his 9 year old signature on the wall? I plan on letting many more kids sign contracts and sign the wall. Eventually one of them will end up as a staff member.