Too Many Books

For those of you who read my TMI post yesterday , I have a confession to make: it was truth or scare in disguise. The entire story is true except the last paragraph. Though I was the waitress of the family in question, years after the camp events described, I did not contaminate their food with any of my bodily juices. Confessing that the end of the story is untrue is not very fun. In fact, I feel my ego deflating a bit as I type this now. I wish I was that person -- someone able to perform acts of sweet revenge. But, in my six years (plus) as a waitress, I never once messed with anyone's food. I mean, I may have peed once mid-shift and neglected to wash my hands, but let's be honest -- who hasn't done that a time or two? I'm crestfallen. Yesterday marks the first time I have fabricated a story for TMI Thursday. (It's way more fun to tell the truth.) I feel there is a penance to pay -- that I must redeem myself for the untruth that was told. I th

Back when I was churchy, I went to a churchy summer camp. Kids from all over the state of Kentucky would gather for a week of Jesus at a tiny little campground just outside of Louisville. When one was old enough, the cool thing to do was to volunteer to work at the camp -- cleaning the restrooms, helping in the cafeteria, and serving snacks at the canteen (which is called The Manna Hut . I told you it was churchy.) Since I lived about 15 minutes from camp, I decided to make history the summer I was sixteen: I volunteered to work all six weeks. The Camp Director even decided to pay me for my efforts -- I earned a whopping $125.00 per week, which I was encouraged to put into a fund for an overseas missions trip at the summer's end. (I think I saw dollar signs in my eyes, so I decided to skip the trip and pocket my pay. I'm pretty sure the Camp Director -- who organized the trip -- was not entirely pleased with my decision.) The camp is always divided up into teams and comp