Care and Keeping of your Warm Fuzzy*

(photo courtesy ehow.com)

Practical needs:
Dry clean only. Do not iron.


Emotional needs:
Warm fuzzies have a strong sense of modesty, and feel violated if fingers are thrust into their innards. Fuzzies do not have a strong sense of self, and may therefore disintegrate if subjected to high levels of stress. Keep your fuzzy relaxed by reading to it, playing soft music (or dance trance), and telling it all your problems and darkest secrets. Back massages not recommended. Do not under any circumstances threaten the fuzzy with scissors or fire. Your fuzzy wants to be there for you, and loves to feel needed. Your fuzzy loves you. We love you. God loves you.






Quote of the year from the #1 most angelic boy camper ever, who I just told on facebook to go to bed:
"YEA BUT NIGHT IS AWESOME THE STREET SWEEPERS TRANSFORM INTO GIANT ROBOTS IT'S AWESOME"




Stuff from last night/the other night:


Recently I bought some eggs at Wal-Mart which then were recalled. Kelly and I solved this problem by standing on the back porch and throwing them at the trees in our yard. It was awesome.


At Martin's yesterday I found this blueberry beer that I've been looking for. Unfortunately it turns out not to be as good as I remember. Or at least, I turned out to like it in the same way that I like root beer: only for the first sip.


I actually made lunch yesterday (?) for five people. Like, I cooked it on the stove. The fact that "it" was reheated broiled vegetables (um, best ever? Thx mom) and chicken breasts sauteed in olive oil with onion is completely irrelevant. Cooking and cleaning, in the same week(ish)? This just doesn't happen.


I am house/dog sitting for one of my uncles--taking his very old, very sweet, very gangly old girl Rosie on extremely short walks twice a day for two days, and scratching her behind the ears. Pretty good gig.


There is an alumni retreat at Camp this weekend, which will be worked by me, Kelly, David, Jr, Charity, and maybe a few others. There will also be barn building and new cave exploring. GET PSYCHED. Are you psyched? I am psyched.


Last night (two nights ago?) I was again walking Miley and started to cry over Little Bit. I know I said that already, but I miss him. I miss him, and I'm not sure I'll ever stop being sorry that I wasn't there with him when he went. I should have stayed. I should have been there. He deserved better from me.


Lastly, last night was the first night that there was a (tiny) chill in the air, and the smell of woodsmoke. The first smell of fall.








EDIT:
A continuation of the above conversation with Angel Child:


me: by the way, that was the best quote ever.


ever.


AC: AWW THANKS MARIE


me: np. yay robots. why all caps?


AC: CAUSE IT'S AWESOME
AC: THEN THE ROBOTS FIGHT EACH OTHER


me: YES

• 
  
  (I can't get this grey bar to go away. Deal.)

*Excerpted from Camp care packages stuffed tonight for our co-workers who also happen to be in college. There was some discussion of care packages for co-workers stuck working dead-end jobs, but that'll have to happen another time.