Today I chewed gum–Mentos gum.  Nothing happened, nothing got stuck.  I enjoyed myself very much.  Whoo!

I went to Water World for the first time in my entire life.  I had always thought it was overrated, but deep down I wanted to try out the place for myself.

I went to the park with my youth group (……) and another visiting youth group (awesome group of people).  I was excited about the trip, nothing was holding me back–then I found out we were supposed to pay for our own ticket, I don’t remember reading that in the memo.  Someone had to pay my way, one of my friends was not going to get wet, and everyone was wanting to ride the Great White (death thriller).

First things first I went to the restrooms bath huts and changed clothes. Some psycho lady–who I am pretty sure knew I was in there–put her hand in over (not under) my stall and felt around and then tried to open the door.

The first real stop (bath huts do not count) was to a water slide.  I must say I was very afraid of my flipping and/or decapitating myself.  The young, not so hot lifeguard was flirting with a pair of older girls (honestly, I think the dude was like fourteen, even I think that I looked older than he) was not doing a good job of watching the children.  There was an angry mother at the scene who was considering talking to the manager and I had been elected to slide down first (the things I do for friends/acquaintances).  ‘Twas not as bad as I thought it would be.  True, I did hold my breath all the way down, and yes, I also had a conversation with myself, and also yes, I did scrape my elbow but really, it isn’t so bad.

My next visit was to the wave pool.  Of course, I was not aware that it was a wave pool until after the waves had begun.  I stood in the five foot “chatting” and listening to conversations.  Someone suggested we move to the deepest level.  Of course, I not wanting to distance myself went along with the group.  Eight feet–which I might add, is a level at which I cannot stand–, I was in eight feet when those waves started. I swam for my life to the bars.  I think I did at least twenty pull ups in the pool.

Last but not least is the Great White.  Truly I guess it isn’t that bad.  We stood in line for a long period of time watching and wondering what would happen to us when we tried it.  As I said before, I went along to be a good sport, well, I got paired up with someone who I believe also went along to be a good sport.  I think she might have been more afraid than I was.  We walked the five flight of stairs with a freakishly heavy tube.  I said to the girl (for my benefit as well), “You’ll be okay as long as you don’t look down.”  That was a mistake, she is freakishly afraid of heights.

We reached the top.  The lifeguard greeted us with a warm welcome by saying, “You’ve never done this before, have you?  You look nervous.  It will all be over in a second. ” Huh, nice of her, don’t you think?  I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

“Chins tucked, bottoms up.”

Now what the heck does that mean?

And we were off.

My butt hit the surface and it hurts like crazy.

Water World is overrated.

Summer, oh the summer.  I would not even say that mine has been busy, but of course I have not written much at all.  The one blog that I did write was very short and honestly crappy (pardon my pun).  A few days ago, I was surprised to find three blogs written but never published.  I would publish them now but they are so far into the past that it would be silly.

The summer has been full of ups with only a handful of downs thrown in here and there.  This summer I had the privilege of working at Camp Victory as a CIT–it was such a joy.  I met new people and feel as though perhaps I made an impact in someone’s life.

In a previous blog I mentioned my walking into an “I Hate This Girl!” club–I’ll call this female Vicki so that she remains…innocent. I did not understand the other girls hatred dislike for Vicki.  God is funny, for Vicki was my partner for the week.  I still did not understand why they did not like her…but I guess it just might be a girl thing.  I mean sure, I will admit that it felt like I did more of the work a lot of the time (butIthinkthatshewasonherperiod..), but she is really nice and fun to hang with sometimes.  I think I got along very well with all of my fellow CITs.

During the week, the CITs went to the challenge course.  I always enjoy this,  I enjoy the talks we have afterwards–especially the part about leaders and followers.  On this particular trip I was most definitely a follower–I fear we had a few too many leaders this time.  We had an activity which consisted of getting the group from point A to point C without touching the ground and with only two blocks of wood.  It was difficult to figure out but I was embarrassingly surprised at how quickly the group became frustrated.

My cabin was wonderful.  The girls were well behaved and that made my one week (*sigh*) of work more fun.  There was only one first year camper–one whom I felt sympathetic toward.  See, she tried to fit in a little too hard; even I shared in the girls frustration.  That little girl and I had the same pajama bottoms.  The other girls complimented mine and not hers.

Girl 1: Charita, your pajamas are so cute!

New Girl: I have the same ones!

Girl 2: Charita, your pants are totally awesome.

New Girl: Hey, I have the same ones!

Girl 3: Charita, I like your pajamas.

New Girl:  I’ve got the same ones!!

Me:  Hey guys, don’t you like her pajamas too?

Girl 1:  Your shirt brings out the color more.

I almost started to laugh, right in their presence.

The only thing I regret is my inability to stay up late into the night.  It is sad that I went to sleep before my campers did.  I guess I just wasn’t in the mood to tell blond jokes until midnight–but I still wish I could have stayed up.  Another thing that I need to improve is my talkativeness. The girls in my cabin commented on my quietness.  I honestly thought I was extra loud that week….

I also had the opportunity to share my testimony with my fellow cabin mates–God did things that night.  My testimony prompted another girl to share, and another, and another–every girl shared her testimony.  It was amazing!

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Recently, I have been at home with nothing to do (always something to do, just either 1) not worth doing or 2) I am procrastinating) and watching the numerous infomercials that come on television.  Every Saturday and sometimes Sunday they have two or three on the subject of Detox.  They make me laugh ever so much.  I have never openly talked about bowel movements, nor have I seen anyone who did–from size to thickness to color.

You have these supposed doctors (I’m not quite sure what they are) trying to convince you, the person lame enough to be watching an infomercial in the first place, to by their product–usually pills.  They tell you that your colon is clogged up and needs to be emptied (how they know about my colon, I’m not quite sure).  The answer to this problem is their new pill.  But oh no, it is  not a laxitive–makes you poop your guts out–but definitely not a laxitive.  The doctor(s) got very defensive when this subject was brought up.

I learned many other things about the (my?) body.  For instance,  if the colon is not properly detoxed on a regular basis the fecal matter that has not been properly disposed seeps back into the body.  It stays there hardening; the body tries to rid itself of the unuseful substance and sometimes it seeps at the skin.  Do you have embarrasing marks on your body?  Maybe you should detox!!

This week of Staff Training has been terrific.  I found it spiritually refreshing, informative, and I also made plenty of new friends.

I was nervous on Monday.  I wanted to be well liked and accepted (without the weird look in one’s eye).  As previously posted, my brother is extremely popular; I just found out how much.  I sort of shadowed him that day (and probably the rest of the week:).  I got plenty of “Hey, you’re Makario’s sister!  You guys look so much alike.”  I took it in stride, knowing that it would come and choosing not to care.  I made friends, met somebody’s special friend (and gave her my blessing), and ate. I like camp food.  We had a “get acquainted” time in the chapel.  We were supposed to tell 1) our name 2) our current location 3) pick something off a table and tell what it represented to us.  I had the best thing in mind too.  I was going to pick the toy guitar and say, ” I picked the guitar because I don’t play the guitar.  If asked to do so, I probably wouldn’t because I don’t know how.  God wants up to get out of our comfort zones.”  BUT the girl in front of me chose that object so I had to think of something else at the last moment.  I picked up the calculator (because it looked cool) and said, “I picked this calculator because God wants us to be..uhh….smart.”  The entire chapel errupted with laughter.  Can you say embarrasing?

The next day I had Dining Room Crew.  I learned how to properly set the table and how to pitchers on the table so that they would not bother ADD people.  Being a CIT has wonderful privileges.  Free food and coffee (I have had five cups in the past two days–decaf though:).  There wasn’t too much to do with dining room.  When I think about it though, there is not too much to do with any of them.  You just have to learn where things are.  There were many classes.  One class that I found most interesting was a study of courtship vs dating.  Boy was that interesting.  There is a fine line between the two and I think that is what I shall stick with.

I suppose another positive thing that came out of it was,  I faced my phobia of canines.  My phobia of dogs is still alive and well, but now, I suppose it is feeling ill.  There was a stray dog that followed me around.  I was freaking out and did not know what to do (but apparently, I hid it well because the dog did not have a clue).  They gave an announcement that morning saying “Please do not pet the dog(s).”  Almost everyone broke that rule (except me, why pet a canine, that just makes no sense).

Josiah and I got to hang out a bit.  We went on the swings together and were going to go boating but that didn’t work out.

This years theme is AmazinGrace (based on the actual games).  We were competing against other cabins.  Some of the sections were particularly memorable. There was this one part when only one person could participate; the rest or his/her teammates had to pick out food for the other person to eat.  The choices were a raw potato, saltine crackers, vienna sausages, and baby food –we had to choose three out of the four. I could have done it.  Timan’s food really doesn’t taste that bad, but I didn’t volunteer.  We also had to put a tee shirt on a pig.  I am starting to wonder if I accidentally wrote “Not an animal person” on my application.

That is pretty much the highlights of my week (and I am tired of writing).

Get in, endure, get out–this is the mind set of most young people when they enter the orthodontist’s office. I don’t honestly know what I was thinking when I reached the door. I had been thoroughly warned about the upcoming event.

“Oh yeah, it’s a great time, you’ll love it. They tighten them like crap and you shall survive only by asprin. Looks like it’s back to soup for you, babe. You will also love the nurse ladies, they are the ones who do the tightening. They don’t care how you feel, sometimes they will put the wire in backwards and that hurts twice as much, or they might forget to cut off the wire and it rips open your cheek.”

I think it will be a pleasant experience.

I open the door, climb the steps, and enter the room. For such a great paying job, they have a crappy building. I sign in, my picture pops up (which I hate) and I confirm that “Yes, that is a picture of Charita Lewis.” The wait was not as long as I thought (or hoped) it would be.

The door of HELL opened and my name was called (incorrectly, I might add). I walked back and entered the torture chamber.

I sat in the chair and listened the nurse ladies (witches is a more appropriate name) converse about their love lives. I think that most of them are married, for I see rings on fingers and sappy pictures of them with their husbands and kids. One girl, I believe, is living with her mother and/or her boyfriend. Then the conversation took a turn to pedicures and the dead skin on the bottom of one’s foot. Then, they asked me what I thought about it. I mumbled a lame reply and smiled. I sat in the room, just sitting mind you, listening to their petty conversation for a full twenty minutes.

I had broken a bracket and it needed mending. If this was not so, I don’t think that I would have had to see Dr. Ortho that day. The most awkward thing about the orthodontist is having one’s head between the doctor’s legs–very, very awkward. Why does the orthodontist try to carry a conversation with his patient? It isn’t as though they can talk with his hands in their mouth anyway. Also, why is it that at my orthodontist there are many many female nurses, all seemingly under the age of thirty, working with one man over forty? (Makes me very curious).

He fixed my bracket, and I got a power chain. It was basically a pain free experience. I don’t understand what the big deal is. My mouth didn’t even hurt the next day.

A friend and I had a splendid visit to the Shell station right beside our school.  This was a most adventurous escapade for it is Banquet Day (perhaps a blog tomorrow).  We got out at 12:30 and parents or brothers who were supposed to take us home had not yet arrived .  My friend and I decided to be bad girls.   It was an awesome time.  My school has put up and stupid, ridiculous chain to keep people from cutting corners and saving the grass (and it is not working one bit, the grass is a bunch of dandelions *cough*weeds*cough*). We went under the net instead of around it and walked to the Shell station (which I am not supposed to do……).  Ooh, it felt good to be bad.

While inside the gas station, my accomplice and I read  every single one of the shirts out loud, took them off the rack, and rearranged them.  I would just like to say that those shirts were ridiculous, dumb (I need some new adjectives), and had bad grammar. After taking our fun with the shirts, we looked at all the (redneck) hats and read them aloud as well.  I felt as though we were being a nuisance and bought some ice cream out of guilt.  If I buy something, they can’t throw me out, now can they?

Being a bad girl is a lot of fun.

Even though, by the title you probably thougt I meant something…worse.

Oh, what a joyous occasion Field Day is at my school. School is only in session until 12:30 (whoo!), we get to spend time in the sun (huzzah for sunburn), and I enjoy the privilege of overseeing an activity. Field Day is also one of the most memorable days of my sixths grade career (three whole years ago…).

We were young, foolish, and beginning puberty. We were an experiment–the first sixth grade considered “middle school” at Emmanuel Christian School. We were no longer participants in Field Day, we got to run Field Day. Ah yes, the good old days.

The girls were forever fighting in and out of the classroom. The things about which we fought–who had the best clothes, who had the worst clothes, who’s hair was the best, who could bring in the most can tops, who could sing, who had begun her period, who had a boyfriend (which happened to be none of us but it was still a great topic on conversation), who was most athletic, who would go to the awards dinner–had no real value.

The day was crisp and sunny. We were supposed to man the forty yard dash. I had been working with a few friends. Sam was one of those friends. Actually, Sam was a frienemy; we got along great at times. She was my best friend but also my greatest enemy. We were both fighting for the attention of Mr. Max. Sam always won his affection; I received his anger.

Sam could sit in his chair. “Aw, kid. How ya doing?”

Chasity could not sit in his chair. “Get out of my chair!”

Sam, Lindsay, Melanie, Rose, and I were friends; Sam, Janice, and Dorothy were friends. Each group of girls was working a different game. Sam was with me. Max came over to us, “Great job, ladies.” Sam went over to chat with Max. I think I’ll give it a try. Besides, he can’t hate me that much. I gave it a shot, but he ignored me. Perhaps another attempt? No, he just walked away faster. I had finally had enough! I gathered my courage and said, “Why do you hate me?”

“Because you are annoying! ” he shouted back. Wow, not even a “I don’t hate you.”

“Sam does the same thing and you like her, ” I reasoned.

“Sam isn’t annoying.” It’s not that, I thought, Sam is pretty.

I cried that night.

But yet another thing happened that day. The girls had a huge fight–over a chair.

Sam, Lindsay, Rose, and Melanie (Group A) against Janice and Dorothy (Group B). I, for once, remained neutral and tried to comfort both parties.

The lawn chair of Group A was either 1) blown down by the wind or 2) Group B had knocked it over. Group A claims that the second choice is what really happened; Group B believes it was the first option. By this time the fun and games were over and we had gathered in Max’s room. Max strode in, found out what had conspired, and decided we talk about it. He yelled at us for thirty minutes, telling us that we were immature, stupid, pathetic. He made us all cry. I hated seeing them cry (I myself had only shed two tears) and tried to cheer them up.

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”

“Shut up, Chasity.”

I cried more than two tears after that.

The argument went deeper–friendship. Group B was mad at a person in Group A. The friendship was never truly mended.

Did this Field Day go smoother than the Filed Day of the past? We are older now, more mature (ha ha, although the immaturity of my class amazes me), wiser? well perhaps a little–we don’t tell friends everything. We keep our dirty, little secrets. We let them smolder and burn us from the inside out. We have to heartache over petty things. We now go after the opposite sex, deserting out friends from kindergarten. No, this Field Day was just like the rest. WE are still arguing over chairs, just of a different kind.

My CIT weeks were due on Tuesday. I was very determined to get it in on time. My mother said, “Why don’t we just wait until tomorrow? We can talk about it then.”

I said, ” No, Mom, I have to turn it in today.”

Makario and I drove all the way downtown to the post office. The line was terrible long (taxes were due on this day, Tuesday, April 15), people were complaining and cursing under there breath, and I was afraid of being a penny short. At last, it is my turn in line. I put in my forty one cents (did you know the price is going to rise again in May?) and waited for my stamp. I had already addressed the envelope to camp. I dropped it into the box and breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it and on time at that. Huzzah for me! I am amazing.

The next day…..

“Charita, Charita, you got mail!”

I am always excited to receive mail. For some reason, perhaps the tone of Timia’s voice, I was ecstatic. I looked at the envelope.

*Gasp*

I had mailed the weeks that I wished to work to myself! I was so determined and then it comes back to me the next day. What a waste of forty-one cents.

Goodbye, my love, I shall miss you.

Josiah, you have been an excellent friend and I will miss you. Our ups and downs were great, but it is now time for us to part. My first and only boyfriend–I will never regret the time we spent together . Our long talks and walks in the park, going to Baskin Robbins, eating at fast food restaurants, these things will be trapped in my memory. I am mourning your leaving but I know it is for the best.

I am sorry for the way my friends treated you, as though you were not real. Indeed, you were very real to me. I would like to apologize for Abby stepping on your foot. I know that it must have hurt but you bore the pain silently, as you do most things.

Your silence and strength has helped me through much. Though we will never be together again, I will always remember you.

I love you, Josiah and I always will.

Do not forget me, I certainly will not forget you.

Charita Lewis

P.S. Thank you for all of the flowers you sent me.