So you may have noticed I wasn’t a stellar blogger last week, but boy howdy, was I busy. Try to imagine that your friend who is a medical doctor asks you to “substitute” for him at work the day he’s supposed to perform surgery. That’s what it’s like when you get called as a counselor in the Stake YW presidency one month before Girls Camp (and the new president will be out of town for the month). So last week I spent two and a half days at Girl’s Camp and I learned a few more things about myself.
- Girls obsess about boys as much as I obsess about sleep. (Oh, the part I learned about myself is that I’m annoyed by that… the boy part, definitely not the sleep part.)
- When I went to Girls Camp as a youth, we loved singing all kinds of silly songs over and over again wherever we went. This trend is apparently still in force, but now as an old and incredibly wise adult, I realize that many of those songs are really kind of inappropriate. Heck, some of them are even anthems of boy-mongering. Again, annoyed. (Are you noticing a trend?) My friend Shantel and I tried to come up with some counter-culture camp songs ourselves like “Boys are stupid until you’re twenty. (and while marching…) Stand for Truth and Righteousness!” Not a big hit. Can’t imagine why.
- I had to teach a fireside at camp and even though I thought I had prepared with many weeks of pondering, when I sat down to put my notes together a mere hour or so before the presentation, I had some severe writer’s block. Just a little testimonial: Prayer works.
- When girls go to Girls Camp and decide to sleep as little as possible, they get to go home and recover. When women go to Girls Camp and are victims of as little sleep as possible, they get to go home and immediately pick up their regular duties on overtime. The trend continues: Annoying.
- I thought the girls might be annoying. I was wrong. I loved them, and I looked forward to spending more time with them.
- Glitter lip gloss does not look good on grown women.
Today I had to return the large speaker system podium that we borrowed for camp to the church building. When I arrived and got out of the car, I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I bent over and heaved up the podium to carry it in the building, and –um– apparently something about that bending, lifting and heaving stretched the limits of my bladder control. I went home a little damper than I arrived, which is simply God’s way of reminding me that I’m not nearly as young or cool as I think I am.
So, learned any fun lessons about yourself lately?