Wow, I'm forgetful tonight.

I totally had something to say when I got online to write a blog. Really, I did. But now I can't really remember most of it. So for once, you may actually get a short entry.

I got my teeth cleaned today. My usual dentist wasn't there, so I had the older lady who hurts more and doesn't actually know me. And then the head dentist came in at the very end because it's been a year since he last checked my teeth himself. He was utterly amazed at the ammount of recession in my gums. But there isn't anything they can tell me to do because I already bought the fancy toothbrush they push, and I floss every day and use the rinse they like best, and do everything I'm supposed to. And yet my gums are inflamed and recessed. Someone please tell me how this makes sense.

So that's how my day started. After that I felt in need of something happy, so I puttered around the Brookings Book Company on Main. There are cats there and the black one followed me around the whole time because I would stop and pet him. I bought a couple Michael Chriton books (since his were all half-off) and the book Wicked. It's the book the musical is based off of, so I'm really excited to read it. Of course, don't count on me having time to do that any day soon. I am, after all, writing my own book and reading another already. You know, in spite of all the hype about it, I'm finding Eragon to be a slow read and suprisingly easy to put down. I mean, it's not outright bad, I'm just not getting into it like I thought I would.

I also got a bunch of pictures developed today. Lately I've been endulging my other love: scrapbooking. But then I realized that I would need actual prints of nearly a year's worth of digital photos for that to be possible. So I went through iPhoto and selected 92 of the very best pictures to be developed. Let me tell you, I have not been so excited about something for a while. I LOVE getting prints of my photos. I mean, it's great to see and share digital copies of my favorite shots, but there's just something about holding the print in my hands that makes it all so much more rewarding. Plus, now I can crop them with fun scissors and paste them on pretty paper! But for now I'm resisting the urge to plunge right into it. i've still got quite a bit of writing to do, and I was really on a roll before dinner. Time to go back to the forest!

-Kim

New toys, same old thoughts

We put my backpack in the trash today. This year I opted to just get a new one rather than add another layer of ducktape to hold the bottom together on the blue one. My new bag is a bit smaller, and it's yellow. I know, I know, the fact that it's not green sort of shocked me too. But the beautiful green one was about $70. There's no way I was going to pay that when I could get a good bag for less than one-third of the price. Though if the pretty green one ever goes on sale...

Anyway, I also got a new set of tires put on my car last night. It runs a lot smoother now. Oh, and it's still unnamed. Therefore, the suggestion box is still open.

I only have four shifts left in the salad bar for the summer. I'm starting to be worried for the department because of all the employee turnover we've had lately. A lot of the old-timers (which includes me) are leaving, either for good or for the school year. And very few of the new hires are shaping up at all yet. But somehow, the'll pull through. I'm thinking of applying at Judson next summer. Unless I find something more interesting, like an internship or a job in my field.

The other night I saw a deer jump across the road not far in front of me on my way home from work. Two deer, actually. It was a doe and her fawn, and they were gorgeous. Yes, I was on the outskirts of town by the bike path, so wildlife isn't unhead of there, but it was the first time i'd actually seen any there.

I got a letter from the music department the other day that made me nervous. The new choir guy sounds nice enough, but the cand director is making me nervous. He expects us to know every possible scale and prepare a solo piece for our audition. That's two weeks from now. I haven't really played my flute this summer, since the salad bar kept me from being in the community band, and I haven't had flute lessons since high school. I don't have a solo prepared. I don't even own sheet music for a flute solo of any dificulty level, let alone something that would impress a guy who's been in the symphony. And since my grammar class will make me late to band twice a week, I feel in danger of losing my chair. I'll still be in charge of uniforms, or course, since I'm the onl one who knows how to do that stuff right now, but I really doubt I'll hold on to my spot as concertmistress. And maybe I'm overreacting. I mean, not everyone in the band takes lessons, and few of them are music majors. It could just be that this guy doesn't understand what sort of a program he's stepping into. We work hard to get participants in this band at all, we don't expect everyone to be technical whizzes. But the concerts always come out sounding good. All the same, it makes me nervous.

This letter came only one day after I had a sudden panic about how many things I have left to "finish" before going back to school. I haven't practiced my violin nearly enough this summer. I'm almost afraid to face Maria again. But I'm not a music major, and I'm not even going to be a music minor anymore. Practice should not take over my life. I should focus on my writting. These are my rationalizations, but I still miss playing. I have this irrational thought in my head that I can't play and write both in the same day. Logically, I know that there should be plenty of time in a summer day to do both, and spend a good ammount of time on both. But still the fear persists. If I play my violin, will I lose my chance of ever finishing my book in time? If I write, do i lose my chance of ever becoming a truly great musician? Did I ever have a chance at either dream, or is it better to languish in the middle ground and be mediocre in both areas? I know I'm being melodramatic, but it helps to say these things sometimes if only to prove to myself how irrational my own thought process can be.

I've been doing a lot of writing lately and have two-and-a-bit new chapters at the very beginning of my book. I need maybe two more before it can flow into what is already written, with further changes, of course. I was hoping to get more of this done sooner, but no time was ever right. The ideas work better now, and I think I may be able to finish the changes before we go back to school. If I'm not too distracted by other things, that is. Again I face the dilema of time. Sometimes I feel like a slave to time. I wrote a lovely journal entry about that the other day that I might share with you another time.

Apparently Dale Larson has offered to give the Brookings school district a whole heap of money to build a new school. He thinks they ought to build an elementary school out where the kids are and turn Central elementary into a science museum. (He also wants to buy the older school and do the museum project himself.) I think it's a great idea. We could use a better school in a better location. And Central would be a great place for something like a science museum, situated as it is by the library and community cultural center. Mr. Larson (who owns the sompany my dad works for) has already done a lot for this community. He brought in Izhak Perelman to do a concert, he gave us our water park, and now he wants to help give us a new school and science museum. He's made good money with a successful business, and he puts it to good use. (He does great things for his employees, too. Like giving them a rec center to use for free with their families.) He is an amazing example of good stewardship. Hearing about what he has done and wants to do makes me consider my own spending habits. Am I putting what money I have to good use? Interesting typo. I accidentally wrote "god use" instead. But that's really what I mean, isn't it? Am I using my resources the way God would have me? I was at Wal-Mart today, and I bought things for school, fun things, maybe things I don't even need. Should I be using what I have to increase my CD library? And what about the resources I have besides money? What about my time? I know I gripe about not having enough time to do what I want to do, but do I give enough of my time to do what God wants to do through me? Am I using the opportunities he gives me to touch people, or am I running through life looking for the next place to stop and take care of myself? I know that more often than not, I'm more worried about making good time than making my time good. Then there's the resource of talent. We know the parable about the servants and the talents, so I won't go into it here. But the question remains: am I burrying my talent in the ground and keeping it all for myself, or am I using it, and through use increasing it to do more good? Not lately. At least not all of them. But I try. Maybe not every day, but I try to remember that what I do in this life does matter. Sometimes we need reminders and good axamples to keep us moving in the right direction. So thank God that there still are good examples out there to spur us on!

Rain!

It's pouring down on the roof right now, and I absolutely love it. In spite of the chance of tornadoes associated with this system, the sound of the rain has a calming effect for me. And the lightning is just fun.

So I got a car nearly a week ago. On Monday we went down to Sioux Falls to see a guy with a car that we ended up really liking. It's a '93 Pontiac Grand Prix, and in really good shape for its age. And it's grey, which seems to make it resemble a space ship. But only to me. Other people now think I'm crazy, but I like the idea of driving a space ship. I still have not decided on a name for the car, as names are vitally important and must be carefully chosen. I'm open to suggestions.

It's funny, but we probably would not have gotten me a car this summer had the other one not died. If I had been able to drive myself to work, lack of transportation when I went back to school would have seemed a less urgent problem. That's how it is with most things, really. I never got a quality violin until my old one broke at the end of my Junior year. Even though I really needed a better violin, it just never crossed our minds to do anything about it. And now I'm wondering if that's true in other areas of life as well. We grow complacent with our lives and just coast along, never wondering if there is something better. Until it all falls apart around us, that is. Some people spend their lives drifting through a dead-end job, never wondering if they could be accomplishing something great with just a little more ambition and work. A girl may stay with the same jerk of a guy for years because he's "comfortable" and never dream of more unless he hurts her. A student may coast through school making decent grades with little effort, or even great grades with much effort and never wonder whether there is more to life than school and realize his mistake only when he graduates "generally educated" and has no plan of what to do next. (Wow, I think I started losing my focus here...) But no matter what we've contented ourselves with, there is something better. Nothing we could find in this life comes close to what awaits us in the future. God trumps all earthly desires, and he is very willing to "break" your current love to get your attention. I've experienced it in my own life, and I know how painful it can be. But when we've got our heads burried that deeply in the ground, it's going to take pretty extreme measures to get us facing the sun and enjoying the fresh air again. Sometimes it takes a while to realize that this pain can be beneficial. When God broke my idol of academics (or, rather, allowed my own actions to tear it down), it felt like the end of the world. It took his continuing to speak to me through many different avenues for me to realize that I had placed my academic reputation before God in my life, which is why my walk had been so stagnant for so long. But following God more closely than ever before this summer has been so much more wonderful than any perfect grade. There is a life of passion and adventure waiting for us if we can only look beyond our ordinary lives and join in the work of the creator of the universe.

-Kim

I live in the land of Sky

Tonight, driving home from work, I saw the most amazing sunset. The sun itself was behind a bank of cloud and showed itself only as a band of orange through the purple/grey cloud. Above that was another thin band of cloud that was purple with the bottoms shining orange from the sun being beneath it. I think I need to start bringing m camera with me when I work evenings from now on.

Yes, I was back at the salad bar tonight. It was nice, though, because the Refuge was actually comming through on the little radio we have in the back. Donovan made me laugh tonight. Twice, actually. I'm just remembering the first incident right now. He cut his finger, apparently on a plastic container of strawberries (trust me, they can be viscious little buggers, especially when being opened). But our first-aid kit was out of bandaids, so he went off looking for another kit, but apparently nobody had any because he came back a bit later with a box of bandaids for our kit, whining about how hard it is to sign a charge slip when one's hand is bleeding. I realize that's not actually a funny story, but his reaction was just so Donovan of him that I had to share. No, the funny thing was when I was in the back cooler getting cases of broccoli, cauliflower, celery and carrots to cut up. He came in through the door to the produce cleaning room and asked why I hadn't asked for help with the celery I ad just pur on the cart. (Note: the celery cases are pretty much the heaviest ones we ever grab from back there.) I just smiled and told him I had everthing under control. I just thought that was a little weird. Although, when I do need help with something, Donovan is the only produce boy I can ask without feeling weird about it. I guess that's my tomboy nature showing though. I figure, if the produce boys can do it, I can do it. Maybe not exactly, since common sense would rule that they're all stronger than me. But that's just the way I am, independant to a fault.

Oh, so guess what else happened at work today? A certain co-worker of mine, who shall remain nameless for her own protection, had a bit of an accident. Bending down to sweep the dirt into the dustpan, she ripped her pants all down the back. I think this might be the first time I ever saw this happen in real life. And it wasn't just a little rip--it went ALL the way down. And this, of course, was only fifteen minutes before we had to start taking down the bar. I was sent on a mission to purchase safety pins out in the store, while she hid in the back room. This was deffinitely the strangest charge I ever made to our department, but we put the rest of the pins in the first-aid kit just in case they were ever needed again. The pins actually worked really well, and she made it home without further incident, but it made the night quite entertaining for me and the deli girls. Because, of course, anything interesting in the salad bar is shared with the deli girls, and vice versa.

I think that's enough about work.

I believe I already told you we've been trying to find me a good car to bring to school this fall. Well, on Monday, when dad gets off work, we're going down to Sioux Falls to look at one. Well, mabe several. At any rate, this is promising. I may actually get a car before I go back to school and, therefore, get used to it before I take it into heavy city trafic. Woot!

I miss being at camp. I miss spending the whole day outdoors. I miss the community of faith. I miss my fellow counselors. I miss the summer staffers, some more than others. I even miss my girls, as weird as they are. I miss being able to climb. I miss the feeling of crossing a single ridge and entering another world. The vast sky of the prairie is freeing as well, but even that is hard to see from my own backyard. I felt so much more alive in the mountains. And no, I'm not just griping because my allergies flared up over the past few days. (Seriously, there's gunk in my throat and fluid in my ears. But that's beside the point.) It was easier to connect with God at camp. For quiet time in the morning I could just sit out on our bench while the girls all did thier makeup in the cabin. And the whole day was centered around God, no matter how much some people tried to ignore that. (After campfire on Sunday night--the first night of camp, mind you--my cabin was pranked. A group of guys stole all four of our lightbulbs and put toothpaste on the doorknob. That was disgusting. It turned out to be freshmen boys who hadn't quite caught on to the fact that high school camp was supposed to be more focused and mature than junior high camp. Bother. At least Allan got us new lightbulbs fairly quickly once I told him.) I know it's always hard coming back to life in the real world after a "mountaintop" experience (no pun intended), but it's hard not to think wistfully about that week. Yes, it was hard work sometimes, and I'm Romanticising some of the memories even now, but Camp Judson has always been a place of power. No matter how I've come to camp, no matter my expectations or circumstances, no matter my spiritual state at the beginning of the week, I always come away changed for the better. It's in times and places like Camp Judson that I'm reminded that God is still speaking to us today. That God is still romancing each of us right now as we live. That God is still writing his magnificent story in which we all have a part to play. Sometimes, in the midst of busy life, it's hard for those things to seem real. But it is real. And I guess the best way to honor the place that reminds me of such truths is to keep them in my heart the other 51 weeks of the year until I can go back again.

-Kim

Returned from Judson, I'd like to go back

Well, I guess it’s time I share with you about my week of camp. Let me start by saying that while things never change, they never stay the same. It was the same old camp, with the same old activities, and a new set of campers. Many of the counselors this year were people I had gone to camp with three years ago, so it was like I was back where I belonged. Of course, that feeling is always attached to Camp Judson. It feels as much like home as home does. Only at home I never get out of breath walking from where I eat to where I sleep. But that’s beside the point.

What really bears sharing are the differences. This week I was in charge of seven soon-to-be freshmen girls. Let me just say it bluntly: 14-year-old girls are insane. I’m sure there are exceptions, but for the most part they’re all insane. Don’t get me wrong. I love these girls and we had a lot of fun times together. But I will never fully understand them. They spent most of game time flirting with the cabin 20 boys who were on our team, and felt the need to put on makeup for the 4:00 am sunrise hike up Mount Baldy. And why is it that every camper and half of the counselors felt the need to wear flip-flops? I will never understand the desire to wear flip-flops at camp. That's just asking for a broken toe. Now, under that pink plastic surface, these girls do have good hearts. I could see it in the way they supported each other. And what little on-topic discussion I could get out of them in cabin time was good stuff, it just didn’t last long. They got distracted so easily it wasn’t even funny. So this week I was really brought into a firm reliance on prayer at I tried to affect these girls. On Monday night I prayed for each girl specifically and then the camp as a whole after they had all gone to bed. Insomnia is great for prayer—at midnight there are no other distractions. I also met with Polly, Kelsey and other counselors to pray for our campers before evening cabin time. By the end of the week I was feeling frustrated (well, I’d been frustrated from the start…) at the thought that my girls were, for the most part, unaffected by the lessons of the week. I felt like I had failed as a counselor. But four of them came forward at the blessing service Thursday night, and on Friday one of them told me she had accepted Christ for the first time. She made the decision on Wednesday and hadn’t felt like telling me until I asked her to get the card filled out, but she made the decision all the same. That was definitely a God thing—I had nothing to do with it. And a girl from another cabin, who I didn’t even meet until the sunrise Baldy hike decided to attack herself to me. She came forward to be blessed and made sure to sit by me for every meal after the hike. She may turn out to be just as much a challenge as the other girls, but she’s such a sweetie. So maybe I didn’t fail. The most important results of this week at camp may not be apparent for quite some time. I know God spoke to me, even though I was preoccupied by my girls. Actually, quite a bit of it was powerful to me only because of my girls. I just might want to try this again next year. But, of course, that depends on many other things like my summer job and cash flow. Darn money.

Okay, now for the silly side of camp. Driving out with Polly and Steve was great, and it was good to be out there a day early. The staff was a bit thin, so they asked for some of us to help out in the camp store. So I did. Now I know how things operate in there, and maybe I have my foot in the door to work out there next summer. I don’t even know why I didn’t apply this year. Oh well. Judson has go-karts now, with a dirt track on the property across the road. It’s a muddy experience, and so very fun. I only got to drive one for a little while, but it was great. Most afternoons I had to wander off by myself to keep my sanity. The day we drove go-karts I joined a group going to Horsethief Lake, and after swimming in my clothes to get the mud off, I hiked back alone. That was a good time. And there was mud later in the week, too. We had mud pit tug-of-war. And it was an impressive mud pit, let me tell you. It was about ten feet long and half as wide. When I finally went in, the mud itself came nearly to my knees, and the water went well above that. See me in person for some great pictures of that. Oh yeah, and my major injury for the week happened Tuesday night during our brilliantly-design night game. In attempting to get a piece of masking tape off the back of one of the larger male campers and make him relinquish his glowsticks to the counselors, I tripped on a birch branch and tore up both legs and both elbows. I have the distinction of being the first patient to see the camp nurse that night. Mark, the nurse, actually called the game off early because so many people were coming to him with poison ivy or stinging nettles. And the next morning we had three girls hobbling around camp on crutches. At least it was all in good fun, right?

Hmm, I can’t shake the feeling that there was something else I wanted to say, but I can’t think of what it could be. Oh well. I’m finally working on my story again and the bears are calling for me to return.

Today is my parents’ anniversary. Happy 26th, Mom and Dad!

-Kim