If you were to ask me to pinpoint the moment I realized camp was hell, I couldn’t say. From the outset, I knew this camp would be different. It was for city kids who’d never really experienced the outdoors before. I’d seen an ad for the camp on TV and thought it looked like immense fun, but what did I know? The commercial depicted scenes of gleeful children splashing around in a lake, and taking part in potato sack races and sing-alongs around the campfire. What lucky kids, I had thought at the time. Continue reading
My calendar must be broken, yes, that’s it.
One day it correctly reflects that I am a married 37 year-old mother of two young children; the next, it inexplicably claims that it is 2014 and I am a 59 year old single empty nester. How the hell did that happen? Continue reading
Don’t know how I survived Camp Prison-Shit. If not for Jon and his dog, Lucas, I’d have been dead. Of course, slipping into a coma helped.
Now, Camp Prison-Shit wasn’t its real name, not by any means. But it might as well have been, for the sleepaway camp was a magnet for misfits, losers, miscreants, wise guys and clowns. I’m still trying to figure out which category I fit in. Continue reading
I don’t often take up challenges, but this one was a doozy. In other words, hard to resist.
You see, my blogger pal, Jayne Martin threw down the gauntlet in her blog, injaynesworld, when she invited her readers to write a piece of “Hint Fiction.”
Hint Fiction? Continue reading
I am a UCSB mom. Make that was. My son went to that school. After his freshman year, he lived in Isla Vista, on one of those streets where the rampage occurred. It was on the main drag, which is also known as the Number One party street in Isla Vista or IV, as the locals call it. Everyone knows about it, even kids who don’t go there.
UCSB is an attractive campus, considered among one of the better state schools. The campus overlooks the Pacific Ocean. Continue reading