Underwear, Ritalin and Weyburn

Well I'm back. I know, whoopdee whoop, right? Still. I thought I'd announce my presence anyways. To be honest, I missed blog world. When you're used to being connected and then you're not, you feel out of the loop, almost naked. (Shoot my blog rating just shot up to a 14a)

Anywho, after reading my wife's posts last night I think Go2theJohn was in excellant hands. Better hands. I haven't laughed that hard since I realized its interac not interact.

"10 years of sounding like a moron. Priceless. For everything else there's common sense."

My week was great. I served alongside a dozen teens as we directed 18, 10-12yr olds at Clearview Christian Camp. As I've said, I grew up attending that camp. . .watching Brian Cox get all the girls and Stewart McMillan win all the box hockey tournaments. I was never envious of them, camp to me was all about Jesus. Ahem. (Awkward pause) The week went great although I had forgotten how dirty camp can get. When I left for camp I felt peaceful knowing my underwear figure was high yet not unreasonably high. By Wednesday all my underwear was gone, vanished it seemed, and I was forced to recycle. Recycling underwear is a complex process which involves waving goobye to your pride while turning your briefs inside out making you believe you're briefs are fresh even though they are just inverted. By Friday the process gets even more complicated as you attempt life without any und. . .

I love camp.

Another cool thing about camp is the fact that the showers are dirtier then not showering. Especially at Clearview. Gotta love the 6 inches of mildewed kiss your feet goobye water you must canoe through just to get to the stall. Then once you get in the shower you are forced to decide whether or not the furry soap is worth the wash because naturally you forgot yours back at the cabin and to go back would involve getting redressed, wading back to dry ground, retrieving the soap then wading, undressing and gees, why even bother. So, I didn't bother all that much. (Matt 7:1-6)

The other neat thing about camp is the unique kids you get to meet. One kid we met looked like the kin of Norman Rockwell but his parents introduced him as "This is Tyson, and this is Tyson's Ritalin." It took a whole 3 days for a kid to smash open Tyson's head on a cabin. That being said I loved the little guy and tried to spend as much time as possible repeating "you're a good kid buddy, no worries." And I meant it. . . Sometimes I think Ritalin is society's way of taming great people which is a shame because it seems to me that all the great men and women of history have been abnormal, eccentric, odd, and had way too much energy and thoughts for their own good. I'm glad Ritalin is only a recent invention.

Another cool thing about my trip was my pilgrimage back to Weyburn. I lived there for 12 years and hadn't really been back there since I left 18 yrs ago so I drug (not in the Ritalin sense) my teens along to my old elementary school, church, candy store and other favorite spots. All the girls were like "aww, this is so neat." The boys called me a girl and said they'd meet up with us in Carlyle.

Another neat thing was chatting with Hub (Mark Husband) - my old high school teacher - for an hr one night, getting caught up as well as apologizing once again for torturing him all those years ago. Speaking of Ritalin. . .

The last thing worth mentioning was getting to see my good pal Blair Roberts on Saturday for breakfast. Blair is the man. Pure and simple. Love that guy.

As great as the trip was its always even better to arrive home to the wife of the century and kids who remind you that you are king of the world.

I love my life.

John