rambles of my week of late

They're only about thirteen - yet they were everything I wasn't. Half the time, the frequent (random) bursts into the latest pop song was a quick mental analysis of, "is this song appropriate?" "should I tell them to stop?" Heaven knows I hardly listen to music, much less all the modern hits that everyone hears except for sheltered home schooled boorish people like me.

I don't wear makeup - I won't even pretend to know the difference between blush and eye shadow (kidding of course, I do know - you get my point.) The main reasons being a) I don't have enough money and b) I haven't the slightest inkling of how it's used. My amazing co-counselor was sick all week, and these poor girls had to come to me with the countless questions of, "should I put on mascara?" "do you have makeup remover?" "do you have mascara I can borrow?" "can you straighten my hair?". My own dear thirteen-year-old sister is quite a contrast to these dear girls who were on the more mature side of makeup. You have no idea how idiotically out of it I felt as a counselor who could counsel on everything but the main woe of girls lives: beauty. Thankfully, I do know how to french braid, thus saving some of my dignity as I painfully explained, "I don't have any mascara and I've never straightened hair before in my life." I did feel the urge to explain that makeup isn't very necessary for the camping experience - and by not applying makeup to their already beautiful (and young) faces would save me waking them up painfully early to get to the flagpole on time. We never did. At least not all at once. And as a counselor, once the campers are awakened and there are only three sinks, it's impossible for you to get ready for the day. The only option is waking up earlier to get it all done beforehand.

The thought of waking up early is painful after staying up late and being exhausted. This is where the deviousness of counseling comes in. If you're a camper, I assure you your counselor has played this trick on you. They tell you it's 6:45 in the morning when it's actually 7:15. Thus they get up thirty minutes later when you actually thought they were getting up at 6:30 and waking you up fifteen minutes later. During camp-outs they confiscate all means of telling time and tell you it's two in the morning when it's actually only eleven at night.

However, if you're an honest person like me - lying doesn't work. I'm a horrible liar, and not a very smart thinker, and using an alarm clock as a flash-light isn't too brilliant, considering my campers clearly saw that it was only midnight and not past two as they had all thought. Darn it, Bethany!

In which I can only conclude, honesty is the best policy around. Honestly explaining the complications of waking up early, the complications of beauty parties all morning long, the complications of fifty different types of body spray (for those who use more than one - they don't mix!)...however, since I'm terrible at being brutally honest and telling campers to stop singing that already unapproved (annoying) song during the bus ride.....................................honesty is a hard policy to follow.

Do I ramble?


I miss camp. :)


  1. Oh, my. I'm laughing my head off right now... this post made me want to go to camp. I don't wear makeup either, so I know exactly where you're coming from. :)


  2. The whole makeup/out-there pop songs/fashion thing is why I love counseling younger kids so much. I work at a day camp, too, so they come at seven-fifteen and leave at three-fifteen, which is AMAZING. And the main reason I'm commenting on this post, is that I'm hopelessly campsick, too. Cheers. :(


© Everyday Memoirs
Maira Gall