Posts Tagged ‘Boy Scouts’

I found another short story from high school creative writing.  I really liked this one, but you can definately tell that there was a page limit I was dealing with.  The ending is a little abrupt.  But this and that crazy hobo trap story are probably my two favorites.  It’s hard to say.

On an unrelated note, my Boy Scout council up here in Fairbanks and the Scout Camp I worked at made it into the most recent issue of Scouting magazine, which pleased me immensely.  I know a lot of the people the article talks about.  If you want to read it, it’s here.  If not, click here.

Probably even less related, have some Potter Puppet Pals:

And finally, tomorrow I will tell you my super secret awesomeness.  (Even though you probably already guessed it.)  So stay tuned.


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Howdy, y’all.  The excellent news continues to be excellent, even if I suddenly find I can’t eat meat.  So I’m not going to tell you about the cranky thing yet because I don’t want to spoil my fine mood.  Have I mentioned yet how much I adore my big crazy family?  Seriously, any of you who aren’t best friends with members of your family, I highly recommend it.  If they’re anything like my family, they’re some of the finest people on this earth and you probably love them more than you know.

Anyway, I am female, in case some of you haven’t figured that out yet from all the various subtle clues.  And yet I met my husband at Boy Scout camp.  (That, too, is a fun story that shall perhaps be told some day.)  I have five brothers and I grew up with four of them and we’re LDS.  I was bound to get caught up in the Boy Scouts of America.  In the summer of 2004, just after I graduated high school, I was the Handicraft area director, that being the fourth year I worked at the Lost Lake Camp.  (I don’t care where you are in the world: get together a venturing crew and get up there.  It’s amazing.)  This was my area’s final report that I typed up in about half an hour and has suffered no editing whatsoever.  Yes, I actually turned this in to my boss, and, no, he didn’t turn it in to his.  He made me write another.  Bad Sven!  Bad!

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