Dear Readers – Days 14 – 16 at Sleepover Camp Lenox,
I came back from my time at home, ready to go at camp full force, except for the part where Mark came back with me and I had to both entertain and work. Yes, I know my job is to enjoy camp, but it’s hard to do that, while making sure someone else is happy.
Also, I had to help him get my son J, prepared to leave early and go home to practice for his big baseball tournament in Cooperstown. Mark insisted I write a list for and that I follow up on it, and perhaps I could shadow the counselor during the packing of the listed items? and maybe I could catalog said items to ensure everything necessary would make its way home?
After confirming all pertinent items were logged, color-coded and organized, I showed Mark the camp, which he thought was stunning — and campy and rustic and pretty incredible… it is. I took him to dinner at the dining hall, so that he could see how I’ve acclimated to camp food. Yes, I’m usually the one who orders stuff on the side, changes the items or makes up my own dish… That’s not exactly possible at camp. One can’t ask for less fried on the chicken fingers or more organic on the turkey, a side of balsamic vinegar, or simply another meal option. I also wanted him to experience the noise … the level of cheering and the camp spirit. It gave him nostalgic twinge — it can do that.
We watched J play in a tournament and Mark immediately went with his instinct to give him some chatter from the bleachers. “J, load up and swing through.”
“What are you doing?” I questioned.
“You thought that swing looked full?”
“No, I’m not disagreeing with your swing analysis… I’m saying you have to leave the commentary to the coaches and counselors. He’s at sleepover camp.”
He waited until Jake was back in the dugout and sidled over to whisper something or other, but I’m too on the ball for that. (Pun intended.)
“Hey Relentless, you can’t do that either!”
I ended our day with a trip to the Mom House, without telling the house mom, as I’m pretty sure boys are NOT allowed. He’d been so enamored with his day at camp, I was sure he was going to tell me I’d be insane to complain about a single thing … coffee, bugs and living quarters included. However, in a shocking turn of events, he revealed something about himself I’d never seen.
He’s more high-maintenance than I am!
On top of the baseball coaching and packing particulars … He was questioning how I could shower in our showers, which are the type they basically install in places that didn’t originally have showers. Like the kind you could buy in the back of a magazine along with Sea Monkeys. I have to be honest, I’m pretty bruised up from banging into the random shelves and ledges that jut out on all sides, but I never thought to mention it.
“Yeah, I bounce around those walls like a pinball so, I can only imagine you sausaged in there.” I said, sympathetically.
“Lets’ just say it was not pretty.” Mark said, “At least the pressure was ok, really it’s all about the pressure.”
Thanks Confucius for your expert analysis.
Then he got into bed and asked how I could sleep with so few pillows. “Why didn’t you bring more?”
“Well, A. I wasn’t planning on having company and B. How many pillows does one need to sleep? It’s not like I’m sitting up watching TV at night. Though I did watch this abnormally large spider crawl the wall my first night here, so I guess you could make an argument that it would’ve been more comfortable with an extra pillow or two.” I think I lost him around reason A. as he was sprawled across my, not so roomy, bed and had taken 5 of my towels and shoved them in his crouch to mimic the body pillow he has at home. Great, I’d been so good about saving up my towels, so I wouldn’t have a lot of laundry…
The next morning, he tried the other shower, which is actually a real shower with a tub and all, but apparently the pressure was not to his liking in that one (and we’ve all learned that pressure trumps comfort). He used a fresh towel for this shower, which puts him at 6 towels in 24hours. Six in a day — to my, one in two weeks. Call it gross, call it campy… I’ve used the same towel every day, how quickly we revert, when at camp (more to wash more to lose).
To top it off, he left his makeshift crotch pillow in a pile on my floor and his wet towel strewn across my bed. He then informed me that he had a conference call at 9AM and asked me for coffee.
ME: You’re kidding right? There’s no coffee here. Do you not read my blog?
Mark: I do, I just assumed you were being a coffee snob and begging for Keurig to be funny, but that and there would be some available. I’ll drink anything …
Me: How accommodating of you…
Mark: I just need it quickly
Me: I’d like to retract my last statement… You can get it in a half hour when we get to camp.
Mark: Why a half hour, camp’s a five minute ride away?
Me: Do you have a car? I don’t… I need to wait until someone can come get me.
Mark: That sucks…
OK, clearly he is not cut out for camp, but it appears I’ve totally got this covered. KIT, SWAK, XOXO, Jenny From the
Blog Bunk at Camp Lenox
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