The County Fair.

This summer. In autumn I will literally have no words to describe what this summer has meant to me. It's just golden. I've shared some wonderful memories with with friends who will undoubtedly be around in my life for years to come. Last weekend, for instance, I attended the Gallatin County Fair in our good old Bozeman. I had never really done the whole fair thing, with the crazy carnies and the precarious rides, but when my best friend invited me to come along with her and our friend Michael (who I had never actually met in person), I knew summer memories would be right around the corner. When we arrived at the fair, we bought a handful of tickets each and made a bee-line towards the Typhoon. The Typhoon is a ride I can't quite describe, other that it whips you in a humongous vertical circle and it's a whole lot of crazy fun, especially if you scream your lungs out. After that one we deliberated for awhile and ended up in front of the Scrambler. Hopefully most of you know what the Scrambler looks like, it's  a classic. Anyway, as we stood in line it started to rain. Nothing torrential, just a drizzle. As we chose our mildly dampened seats, the song "If Everyone Cared" by Nickelback began playing over the speakers. As the ride gained speed, so did the rain. We began humming along, then singing, then positively belting the lyrics to that song as we whipped and jerked in the icy rain that was by this time drenching our every inch. It was like one of those perfect moments we wish we had more often, where despite things going terribly wrong, it all turns into something terribly right. Magic. After we made our way off the ride (reluctantly), the fair continued. It kept raining, and we kept laughing. We gave the carnies something to laugh about when we went through the fun house, and after that were forced to take temporary shelter from the cold on the bleachers in the horse arena with a bag of kettle corn. Our dear friend Isaac showed up and joined our brigade of disheveled youth for  awhile, and we at our kettle corn and shared sprite until we weren't shivering quite as badly. When we were finally all funned out at the fair, Mary, Michael, and I wandered out of the park singing. We climbed into Mike's car, turned on the heater and some pop music, and sang all the way to Mary's. We learned that I am an absolute professional at making hot chocolate from scratch, and after that we watched Aquamarine, and after that, Mary and I tested Michael's patience by having a poetry reading and finding hilarity in everything we said or did. And that was my Fair Experience. I left out a few bits, like the pig barn and the wonderful swings, but I got the highlights in there, and those are what you want to read, anyway. So if you didn't want a story about the fair, and just scrolled to the bottom of post, read this: life is about what you make it.
P.S. Happy birthday, to my lovely mumsy!

Camp, the week of Planned Spontaneity. Part II

This is part two of the previous post, so I'll just keep going. After Wednesday night, which was quite possibly one of the worst nights ever, we still couldn't keep food down. It was thought to be a 24 hour thing, but alas, we were in it for the long haul. On Thursday Rach and I looked like walking death, and we felt about the same. We took command of the couch in the lodge and stayed there all day, too tired and queasy to do anything else. Thursday however, granted us a gift. That evening, while I was talking to Timmy in the lodge, thunder and lightning shook the whole place and rain and marble-sized hail began pelting down. It didn't matter then how hungry or sick I was, we jumped off the couch and raced out the door. After a couple minutes we found the rest of our friends (great minds think alike?), and danced, splashed and laughed together in the storm. It was a dose of life's most potent medicine. And it was marvelous. We showed up to dinner soaking wet, freezing cold, and blissfully happy. I was healthy enough to attend chapel that night, and when we sang my favorite old-school camp song, "The Slinky Song," I nearly fainted from the lack of food and the effort of singing. That night we did our third and final interpretive dance, and it was fabulous. Friday morning, we still had not eaten. Rachel was still feeling rotten but I thought I was better so I ate a biscuit at breakfast. The nurse was getting worried, so Rachel was going home a day early. I was going to stay, that is, I was until I barfed up the biscuit and all the water I drank. So I was going home too. As we packed up our stuff I sat on the floor and cried. I didn't want to say goodbye yet. I never do. As we waited for Rachel's mom to come pick us up, we watched the rest of camp play water games and dance on the field, and an honest tear rolled down my face. I was missing my favorite part of camp. When we left, our friends hugged us and I wished so badly that I could have stayed but two entire days without food were taking a toll on me. As we sat in the van, Rachel and I looked across at each others tired faces, and I knew we had to go through this together, even though it was absolutely horrible. It was supposed to happen, for some bizarre reason or another. When we finally got home, I felt so much better already and for the first time in days, I ate a snack and didn't vomit it up. I'm not sure why I got better when I got home, but it happened.This was just a few of the crazy things that fell from the sky that week in addition to the vast amount of things I learned from God. I could write a whole book about last week, but I'm sure two blog posts is plenty for you.

Camp, the week of Planned Spontaneity. Part I

Each year, I am stunned by all the crazy surprises and memories that get packed into my week at Clydehurst camp. Every single year, I think I know what to expect, until those expectations are blown out of the water and replaced by things I couldn't imagine and will remember forever. This year was no different. I don't even know how to begin the description of the week, so I'll start at the beginning; on the bus ride up, Rachel and I ate peanut butter, chocolate chips, and raspberries. Rachel and I became friends last year on the way to camp, so we celebrated one glorious year of friendship with the best portable food ever, peanut butter. Getting to camp was no big deal, saw some old friends and finally got the cabin I had always wanted to stay in. Before bed, when we were waiting to brush our teeth in the bathroom, Rachel and I chose that moment to become infamous. We made our counselor think up a story on the spot so that we could bust out our interpretive dance moves in our sports bras and pajama pants in the middle of the cabin floor. Our dance was complete with start and end poses, individual and group bows, and stage presence. A tradition was born, and we decided to do a dance every night. Later that week we would be known by most of the staff as THE interpretive dancers, and we even did a show or two for the two staff members who did nightly cabin checks. Another tradition, though not formed by us but by the camp, and maintained for the health of the campers, was night meds. It's exactly what it sounds like; meds, at night, for those who take meds at night and remembered to bring their pills. Night meds is where Rachel and I met many of our friends, including Timmy. We met Timmy on Sunday night, but we really didn't become friends until Monday evening, so I'll come back to that. On Monday we took the hike to Trinity falls, where Mikaela, Rachel, and I held hands and dunked under the freezing falls of icy mountain run-off. On the wet hike back down, I twisted my ankle. Badly, and it made one of those liquid-y popping noises that you never want to hear. I kept walking on it until after lunch, when it began swelling, so I got it wrapped up. That evening was July fourth, so we found our new friend Timmy and ate watermelon and watched fireworks. Then night meds, then interpretive dance, then bed. Tuesday was fun but  non advantageous, other than cramming my swollen ankle into my sneakers to play Capture the Flag, and of course, another dance. Wednesday came, and I thought it would be just another day. However, after another fun day, I was feeling a little queasy before dinner. I ate anyway and was told it would just settle. I was walking with Rachel down to chapel when The Sick hit us like a semi. We made a bee-line back up the hill to our cabin and then took turns barfing up lunch and dinner. That night, when everyone was out staying up late and having a grand time, Rachel and I learned friendship in its truest form, while we held each others hair back and vomited a minimum of ten times each. It was that night that we also learned what a true friend Timmy was. I would say Mikaela too, but we already knew how wonderful that girl is. Anyway, he risked trouble of many kinds to be our friend that night. First he stood on our porch, which is against the rules of the camp, and secondly, he risked getting what we had, which would have kept me off of any ones porch, especially on such a fun night. This concludes part one. Please read part two.

So Close I Can Finally See It

Today I can say exuberantly and with much relief that I have one glorious week at Clydehurst camp ahead of me. This means one week without fundraising; one week where I can sit down if my feet hurt, go hiking, play games, meet new people, and take a nap if I'm tired, all without worrying about the next bake sale or farmer's market. However, our hard work is slowly paying off, because I only have around $800 left, and though that seems like a large amount, remember that this is out of $3,000. Our plane tickets for Ethiopia have been purchased and we leave in just over a month. It seems like just last week I was frantically filling out my application for the trip in hopes of getting on the team despite my age. It seems like I was just wondering who would be on the team and if I would be the youngest or if they would like me or if I could possibly raise enough money. So far, God has answered all those questions in the best way possible. He's still working on that last one though. Fundraising has given me such a lesson in faith. I've already learned so much from this trip, and we haven't even left yet. So, I'm out for a week. I won't be doing any baking, but I will be praying. I'll write a bit on my adventures after this week is over. I hope you all are having an incredible summer!