during these summer months i develop a greater tolerance for dirt on everything and meat in everything (sometimes both at the same time). it's that crazy little thing called camp. over the last several weeks i've met 51 teens - boys and girls - during different sessions of the ranch. we've had a great time playing games like 'ready, set, EMO' and glow-in-the-dark frisbee, commiserating about middle school, hiking up Horseshoe Mountain, coming up with desert island scenarios, talking about whether it's better to kiss one person you really like or sixteen dorks, singing everything from Amazing Grace to Closing Time, swimming in the lake that, just yesterday, i found out is infested with swimmer's itch, discussing why we don't sing certain songs at any volume in the van full of people, making tie dye shirts, and so forth and so on.
chili dog Charles. . . . . . . .. . . . .dip the doc. . . . . . . . . . . . . van of teens
sometimes i feel like i'm going to implode from the number of senseless questions i'm asked on an hourly basis. other times i worry about the grip that pop culture has on these guys. but most of the time i feel like we're making a positive difference here. and that's why i keep coming back.
Zina sneaks a nap . . . . . . . . . . . . .yak pinata. . . . . . . . . a butt-load of muffins