Now that it is unofficially summer, I can’t stop thinking about summer camp–in the middle of the day, on the metro, in the shower… I swear I smelled s’mores last night.
This happens every year at this time– I start having olfactory hallucinations (usually involving campfires) and begin to imagine the logistical acrobatics that would allow me to temporarily leave my job, my house, my husband, my computer, and my cell phone for 2 months. Sadly, I am a pollster, and even I can’t make that math work…
If you are not a camp person, you probably won’t understand my desperate urge to return a place where it’s customary to sing in the middle of meals, gauge time by the sound of a bugle, and wear absurd costumes just because it’s Wednesday (or Thursday or dinnertime or raining…)
Fortunately, a handful of camp alumnae live in the DC area. We got together last weekend to laugh at old pictures, share stories, and reminisce about camp. Here are the cookies I made:
You may think, my dear, when you grow quite old
Snickerdoodledoo 
I remember Debbie Parker reading that poem the last year I was there. ('96)……does anyone have a time machine?
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