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 teenssometimes 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
3 comments:
oh man kel, i look like some homeless refugee, or is that a yetti?
I say, this looks like fun. I want to make a papier-mache yak sometime. Maybe I need to come down to the ranch.
yurts and yak pinatas? this mongolian theme has gone just about far enough. next you guys will be throat singing!
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