Hello Mudda, Hello Fudda, Here I am at Camp Shiktehawker, It is raining It won't stoppa, Say hello to my little brudder (not that I have one, it just rhymes)... Well, I've been here at camp since Saturday. It's been raining since I got here, and it doesn't show signs of stopping until Friday. I feel like a duck. The staff are starting to grow webbed feet. Swimming around the campground is almost an option or a skill activity. Today I fell down at the Dollar Store, the steps were so wet. I'm OK, Mom. Afton, a.k.a. 'River,' now, helped me up. It's been a great time at camp so far. I have kept very busy, what with talking to the staff each day and wandering around the campground, in and out of my RV for food and sleep, and occasional reading (plus preparation to teach, of course). I've had Jon's junkbox car to drive (an old Volkswagen Golf, which should be in the junkpile somewhere, but it does drive somewhat...) It doesn't like first gear, so I've had quite a time jaunting about the village of Bristol, trying to find alternative ways to avoid a stop sign, like starting out in second gear or find places to do a u-turn in second gear, or take long, round-about ways to get somewhere. Sunday night I took a trip up the road clear to Bath before I could make a circle back to Bristol. I was a woman alone at twilight, in a 45 hp put-put junkbox that Jon calls a car, no wallet, no license, and I wasn't sure I even had headlights or not. Reminded me of our earlier days when Doug and I always had some kind of junky car. Those were the good old days -- I felt young again. I eventually made it back to the campground, where I spent the whole night by myself -- a random woman in a random RV in a rainy campground in the woods. Jon and the staff were on an overnight trip to another random camp -- a survivor kind of thing. I survived the night and fired up the trash can and made it out in second gear. Joined the campers and spewed words of wisdom to them, and spent time there by the rushing brook. I then decided I needed another adventure, so I made it out of the woods and managed to make my way to Coldstream (wherever that is), and visited the Pirate for about an hour to catch up. The Pirate looks the same and always has a tale or two to tell. He was heavily involved in his chipping operation, so I left him to that, and took off across the bridge and up the Rockland Road to Hartland, where I descended upon the graveyard store, and surprised The Undertaker with a surprise visit from his crazy cousin. He supplied me with a refreshing Coca-Cola in a styrofoam cup. I asked for a glass bottle, but that's all he could afford at this time. I hope he stocks up on glass bottles for my next visit. We sat in his office and caught up on life. I like The Undertaker. I spent a lot of time with him in my younger years. He still looks the same, although some of his hair is gone. This afternoon, I asked River if she wanted to go to Coldstream with me (yes, again), to get my hair cut by the Pirate's wife. We got as far as Egypt Hill Road, and it was raining cats and dogs, so we decided to turn back and go to the Dollar Store for office supplies. That is where I fell down, AND where I was finally able, after two days of driving, to get that car in first gear. It's hit or miss, and you have to hold your mouth a certain way. I spent all afternoon in the camp office, working on the computer, editing a massive word document for the camp. Good thing I used to be a secretary (among other things). Well, I must go to chapel -- music is happening, and then I'm involved in a girls' night here -- it will no doubt go late, as we talk about all things girls. I'm the oldest (of course). Toodles. Deb at Camp Shiktehawk