Please Forgive Her

Don't call me a traitor, but this post wasn't actually written for Being Me. I figured The Scarrie Lesa was in a slightly more near-death situation. 

Every year around June, there's some kind of subconscious countdown echoing through the house. Seven days until writing camp. Six days until writing camp. There's a little checklist on Carrie's phone to remind her of things to do she would probably forget to do otherwise, like "Iron the official camp table cloths", "Send out official camp intern orientation emails" and "Feed my daughters".

In addition to the whole disregard for blogging going on in this house, there's a disregard for bedtimes, a disregard for seat belts, and a disregard for almost everyone's typical early morning hair-and-make-up ritual.

Then, the moment of truth arrives. Carrie slaps her groggiest new intern (yours truly) awake at six AM on a summer Monday morning. She packs the back of her car with a weight usually only accustomed to a semi, using some sort of magic to fit a bubble gum machine, three directors chairs, poster boards, markers, snacks, and notebooks all into the back of the mini van. She drags her portable classroom all the way to Westminster college.

Read the entire blog HERE.