As Seen On TV

So in case you haven’t heard, I committed economic suicide and quit my job at camp just before Thanksgiving. I’m back in Texas, where I’ve come to learn I was paid so little that I could have qualified for food stamps. So as it turns out, it wasn’t much of an economic risk as I thought it was going to be.

Anyway, I’m back in Houston and have been getting my stuff sorted out. When I came home from Iraq, I sort of sorted it, because I moved to North Carolina shortly after I got back. This time around, I’ve been a wee bit more thorough, but not much, because I don’t really know where I’m headed to next, but that isn’t the point.

The point is… what the hell do we need a snuggie for?

Seriously, when did it become impossible for us to put on a sweater in our house that we now need a giant blanket with arms in it? Great big, baggy, oversized arms, no less.

And you want to convince me that this is good for my nieces, too? Hell, the little one would be swallowed whole by this thing. One size fits all? I don’t think so.

It’s a robe people. Worn backwards. It’s like a hospital gown on steroids, actually, because the damned thing doesn’t meet to wrap around, like a robe does. And I’m just saying that the action shot they have of the family sitting on metal bleachers outside all wrapped up in their fleece monstrosities…. You know that little old lady was bitching to high heaven about freezing her ass off and the little girl has some serious wounds under hers, too, from tripping over the damned thing.

And someone, somewhere, is making money off of this sh*t. C’mon people, we’re in a recession, but we’re not desperate enough to buy this crap. Just make a home made gift certificate for one home cooked meal, or a foot massage. Trust me, it’s a way better deal all around.

This as seen on TV crap has got to go is all I’m saying. Wasn’t the bedazzler good enough? Now we have to have the GeMagic tool. And just how hard is it, really, to turn a light switch on or off that we now have to have a remote control operated one that works through walls?

Now I can see the potential for mischief with that last one… but as a rule, it’s just not that freaking hard to go to a lamp and turn it on. Or off. Or on again. And if you really struggle with the little toggle switch, get a touch lamp. My grandma had one back in the 80s, and seriously, the dog could have worked that lamp with his nose. A remote control… not so much.

Time to turn off the tv, I think…

Cranky, not cranky

So I was obviously irritated as heck after talking to the cable company. (Yes, I know it's the satellite company, but it takes longer to say, and isn't as satisfying.) After all, Stephanie Plum, and the entire Trenton clan all swear and curse out the cable company throughout the course of a book, so if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me.
But really, that's not what brought me back. Today I had a fun encounter up at Yellow Dog Designs.
We get a lot of donations of in-kind items here, and it really helps us operate well at camp. And Yellow Dog came through with an offer the other day, which landed on my desk. I'm not complaining right now, but almost everything lands on my desk.
Shoe laces. All sorts of them.
That was fun.
And then when we called and found out we could drop by and get some for trick or treat treats, well, it was a short trip up to Greensboro. Where we were greeted by a yellow dog.
Named Sugar.
And then a black dog named Batman.
And then another black dog named Will.
And then an itty bitty dachshund who's name I can't remember.
And then another yellow dog.
It was a lot of fun to walk into a business where the dogs come to say hi. And then I leave with a car packed with cases and cases full of shoe laces. Heh. That rhymes.
Will was my favorite dog though. He's a big black lab, bigger than the other labs there, and when he's happy with you, he growls. I decided to think of it as talking, because it wasn't a mean growl, what with the tail wagging and the perky ears. When he was a puppy, it seems he got confused and started equating big growls with being happy. The owner said it was the guys in the shop who got him trained oddly way back when, and no one tried to fix it.
So I was standing on the loading dock eye to eye with about 100 lbs of growling, writhing, delighted dog when I rubbed his ears. And it's a little odd, I will admit, to be growled at and licked at the same time, but that's just part of Will's charm.
I offered to dog sit.
I was given dog collars, lanyards and shoe laces instead. I can't complain.

Oh, so you meant it was 24 months, but you said 12 months...

Stupid, stupid Directv.
Stupid.
The camp is now providing cable tv into my house, because "they didn't know" my house never had it. So that got fixed. After I paid for satellite at about $700 bucks from January until now. Nice timing, camp, really. Nice.
So I call Directv to cancel my service, expecting a fee, because I wasn't doing my 1 year commitment. And then I find out they're telling me that I have a 24 month commitment.
That's when I went ballistic. Because I know that the dude on the phone I talked to way back in January, who had to deal with me after Directv lost my account installation information, told me it was a 12 month commitment. Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllveeeeeeeee. Twelve. 1-2. Twelve. And I checked with him.
Yep, still twelve.
So I went for it, and had the installation done.
And now, when I call to cancel, I'm being socked a massive fee because the tweaknuts down there say I have a 24 month commitment.
No way in hell would I have made that commitment, given the fact that I was on a new, low paying, unknown job. I had no idea how long I'd be here, and though I HOPED it would be for years and years, I wasn't betting the farm on that.
But that's okay, because Directv bet the farm for me.
Know what it costs to cancel your service? Twenty bucks a month. That's not much, really. It just means I don't go out to eat twice each month, and then it's paid off. But three hundred dollars at once, to cancel, is really hard to swallow.
And there's a hell of a double standard going on, too, because it IS possible to merge 2 accounts. Say mine and my significant other's, once we get married. No, I'm not getting married. What I'm saying is that the idiots at the satellite company will allow me to merge my account with my spouse's account, but I can't merge my account with my parents' account. What's the difference, really? It's probably some obscure legal technicality along the lines of same sex partnerships, but I don't want to think about that.
All I have to say is that North Carolina has not been kind to me. It's cost me a small fortune to work here at a camp making no money. This can't go on.
And if I ever get my hands on a directv executive, I'll be exacting my three hundred dollars worth of fee out of his hide. More than once, just for good measure.

It's been a busy few weeks around here. I started this little episode two weeks ago, as we finished up a family weekend, and ended up surrounded by 800 motorcycles here at camp. I didn't get much farther than the vroom, vroom though, when I got a call on my day off telling me that the order from one of our esteemed arts & crafts donors had arrived, and that I had 6 pallets of supplies sitting at maintenance, with a forecast of rain in the coming days.

I have to tell you, six pallets of anything is huge. But it wasn't just those six pallets. I also got tagged to organize a volunteer crew who came to help get ready for the garage sale we had at camp this past weekend. Didn't know about them but that was another 6 pallets of supplies, in a different location. That was the day I was shuttling TV reporters down into camp, too, as a helicopter landed with some NASCAR peeps here to shake some hands. I imagine the list of people who have to hang up on their mom on the phone because of reporters and helicopters are few and far in between when it doesn't involve a natural disaster.

So I had some volunteers for 6 of the 12 pallets. And then I had 2 co-workers who busted their butts with me to get the arts & craft supplies into the craft building. The rest of the team... not so much. Everyone on the team did get together on Friday to help development set up all the stuff I'd previously helped organize for the garage sale fundraiser camp has. I've never seen so many die cast cars, of all sizes, in one place. And then the day of the garage sale, I fielded a million phone calls, like "how does the popcorn machine work?" and "do we have a hot dog costume?"

The machine works by heating up a kettle, to which you dump in corn and oil and let it do it's thing. And no, we don't have a hot dog costume. I can hook you up with a Slim Jim costume, a pizza slice, a milk shake, or an order of fries, but we don't have a hot dog. "Are you sure?" I'm positive. "Hey, how does the popcorn machine work? They just asked me to make some and I don't know how." Turn it on, let it heat up, dump in the seeds, dump in the oil, repeat as needed. "How do we play music in the ... (pick one) dining hall, the bowling alley, the theater or over the jumbo tron?" I'm pretty sure I worked that day, even though I was off.

This week started off calm by comparison. I had a busy Monday, with an unproductive trip to the eye doctor. (They were busy, and people who had appointments after me complained so they got to go first.) I rescheduled. And then a group was coming through from some foundation I've never heard of, for some sort of tour or something, that no one cared to deal with, so it got handed to me.

And that's when angels began to sing and the sun beamed down on me, making up for all the crap I deal with here, on a regular basis. You see, I'm the "go to" person for just about everyone, even though there are people above, below and beside me who should be handling these issues... but they don't, because they can't. So I get crap from all sides to deal with, usually on the fly. And I can deal with it. But. Not my job.

Back to the angels though.... the group that came through wanted to know about what we do here (not an uncommon question). And how we do it. And what they should do. Somewhere in the 3 hours we spent together, I got invited out to learn to ski with them. And I think I got offered a job several times, too. It seems they pay their staff in 1 day what we pay in a week. And they're in the freaking Colorado Rockies!

I'll be brushing off the resume, writing a letter or two, and a strategic plan on how I can benefit their organization. Because the best thing of all is that they are combining care for all my military troops and their families, in addition to kids with special needs. The military side is something I started writing back when I was in Iraq, seeing a need even then. And here it is, landing in my lap again, asking for my help.

I told you the angels sang.

The Road to Hell

Man, I haven't written in forever. I've had some good intentions, but they're just paving the road to hell right about now. I figure my personal road is a ten lane superhighway at this point. It's a toss up though, whether the traffic is flying along at 80 miles and hour or snarled in gridlock that will last for the rest of my life on that road.
Anyway, camp ended in August, and I think I did a pretty good job this summer. I didn't have the urge to kill anyone, which is saying something, since I was surrounded by kids who were holding on to the last of their teenage behaviors with a death grip. More importantly than not killing anyone though, is that the kids had fun. Every time I saw them, the campers were having fun. I'm not so sure I did, but I figure that's just because I'm one of the responsible people who are busy fretting over all the details. And around here, there are a lot of details.
After camp I dashed home to Texas for a bit, which made me realize that I miss living in the suburbs. I know, I know. How can you possibly miss living in the suburbs? But I do, because there, I have easy access to all kinds of crap, whether it's a store that sells sunglasses, or Thai food I don't have to drive three hours to find. And a broadway play. Even if I don't go to all that stuff, I miss the access to it like hell. Round about these parts, here in Central North Cackalackee, I can't even find a used book store. Thank God for the internet is all I can say on that one.
And holy crap. I'm watching a movie, in which my boyfriend's son has a few scenes as an extra or something, and dannnnnnnnnnnnng, do they look alike. At least we know what Sam I Am will look like when he's older, and even if I am biased, I think he'll be pretty good looking. Wonder if those strong family genes are going to carry on to the little Sam that's on the way. Not sure the planet can handle three of them at the same time, but we'll find out soon enough.
Even with the hurricane, I bet my favorite Tex Mex dive is still open and going strong. Heck, they were probably only closed for a day or two, before they were back to dishing up some great food to fill hungry bellies. The family came through okay, and everyone is bunking at my parent's house, which is sure to be interesting. I'm kind of glad I'm not there for that one, no lie. I'll be home for Thanksgiving. That's plenty close.
So yeah, I'm going to pack it in and go for a drive on that superhighway to hell of mine rather than blathering on about a thousand other things. It's about the only road I can go for a drive on, with the price of gas right now.

I'm a weather junkie

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I’ve been busy as hell. A well-meaning friend of mine pointed out that I might as well have fallen off the planet for all of the communicating I’ve been doing with the outside world. I assured her I was still on the planet, even though I live in a bubble.

No really, here at camp, we live in the bubble. That means we keep the outside world at bay for most of our staff and all of our campers. They’re here for barely 5 days, so they can survive a week without cell phones and I-pods. Me though, I step in and out of the bubble every day, because I live for the weather.

It’s my job to determine whether we’re on the regular schedule, a back up schedule, or the weather schedule. The weather schedule can be called because of thunder and lightning, but it can also be called because of a nasty heat index. And I must say, we’ve had some nasty indices, topping out in the 110’s, lately. As if that wasn’t enough to throw camp into a tizzy, we’ve had some thunderstorms come to visit lately.

And that’s when my cell phone and walkee-talkee blow up. I can’t communicate fast enough with the rest of camp to head off the phone calls and radio reports coming in at me. I usually burn through 2 radio batteries in the course of a day, and most of my cell phone. In a storm though, I can burn through all of that in under an hour, which leaves me a bit stunned. It’s a whole lot of program to rearrange, to keep 128 campers and at least that many staff safe and having fun.

The worst was last week. We had some outside guests coming into camp to do something special for the campers and a bad storm moved in during the afternoon. The entertainment counselor called me crying, because it was raining, and she needed it to stop. Yeah, I’ll get right on canceling that storm for you. I have the national weather service on speed dial, in my cell, which means I can check the weather, but I can’t cancel or change it, no matter how we’d all like to wish otherwise.

Anyway, after a couple hours of bad storms, and power outages, the weather cleared. We had dinner about 15 minutes late. And our special guests arrived.

Because the US Army’s Golden Knights came to play. They made a couple jumps into camp, thrilling the campers and staff alike. Sure, the humidity was at about 98%, and the temperature was around 112, but we spent the evening outside staring into the sky. The camp was miserable, because for the first thirty minutes of trying to breathe swamp water in place of air, no one knew what was happening, and then the first skydiver came down, flying the POW MIA flag under his canopy.

And then it was on.

The good news is that we’re in our 9^th week of camp. We only go to 10 sessions, which is at least 2 sessions too long, but we’re almost done. And when we’re done, after I take a week of vacation, I should get back to regular communication, I hope.

Camp is good

It’s been a very busy month. We’re starting our fourth session tomorrow, and things are going pretty well. I can’t say they’re going great, because there are always downs, but there are several ups, to balance it all out.

I mean sure, we had a lousy week at boating, with one kid clocking himself in the head with his own canoe paddle, and then another kid falling in the lake while trying to climb into a boat, and then the next day a counselor tipping a canoe over and clocking another camper in the head. That wasn’t a fun place to be, for me or my staff.

Over in Adventure, at the 55 foot tall Alpine tower, we found ourselves short staffed, so I ended up helping out all morning on Monday. No big deal as my schedule can handle it, but sadly, my sunblock could not, so I nursed a super secret sunburn for three days, which I called “dry skin.” Sunburn around here is a cardinal sin, so the few people who knew had to keep it quiet from the medical team. And then little bottles of sunblock with an SPF of about a million started randomly appearing on my golf cart and in my backpack. That was some entertainment.

Arts and crafts had a great week, though, because I got approval to buy a ton of blank leather bracelets, for our oldest campers to make. They hate arts & crafts, as a rule, but they liked doing the leather tooling, so I kept pleading for it. And the big boss came through, which should make for some fun times over there. We also got a new donation of about a million markers, which I’ll be regifting to another camp, because we just can’t use them before they dry up.

Things are rocking and rolling in sports and rec, now that we turfed the third counselor out to be a cabin counselor. She had a whole lot of drama which made session 1 and 2 a bunch of misery for her coworkers, and not much fun for me, either. By comparison, things were smooth sailing this week. And the kids had fun. Plus I got an email request asking what supplies we need donated for the Superdome, so I spent today coming up with a list that will cost several thousand dollars, but really give us some great gear.

On the downside, since I supervise the most counselors as the program director, I’ve been asked more than once to play the heavy with some of the cabin counselors, too, when their unit leaders can’t get the right behavior change. I hate those types of meetings. It gave me a bunch of anxiety.

Which led me to another type of anxiety I experienced for the first time this week. See, at the closing campfire each session, a professional company comes in and launches fireworks for the campers to enjoy. The normal pyrotechnician, or whatever they’re called, wasn’t here this week, and his back up guy was in place. The back up guy didn’t have quite the right timing, so the fireworks to me looked like a whole bunch of incoming fire and outgoing C-RAM rounds. And that’s when the shakes began. Stupid Iraq still bugs me almost a year later.

But camp is good. Yeah. Good.