Just call me Gizz

My nickname at camp is Gizz. That's short for Gizzel, not short for jism. I have to thank my friend Ian for starting this as he started calling Gizzel (a form of my last name) when we were at college, and the girls just continued calling me that last summer. Well, it got shortedned to Gizz.

There's nothing more special than sitting at Sunset Circle and hear your girls scream HEY GIZZ. They know, full well, what other people think it's short for. They have even gotten me a tee-shirt that has TAMARY '06 on the front and GIZZ on the back. Yah, like I can wear that on casual Fridays when I'm teaching.

Cookie anyone?

So I am the counselor to the same group of girls for the 3rd year in a row. This year they are the "top dogs." The oldest. The most experienced. The mature ones. Yah, right?

So tonight I came back to the cabin and those little buggers had stolen an entire sheet of cookies. And we're not talking about the kind of cookie sheets you have at home. We're talking industrial hotel size that took 4 or 5 girls to carry. Probably 100 cookies. Of course, I told them we had to take it back, but stealing back into the kitchen with the ill-gotten booty is harder than stealing the cookies out of the kitchen. And besides, we're scared of the cook. So they each grabbed a handful of cookies before we snuck back into the kitchen. Whew, we were not caught. Bad girls.

They also played True or Dare. I do believe they made some girls drink toilet water and lick Cheez Whiz off another girl's toes. Wow, it's going to be a long summer. Fun, but long.

I'm back at camp

Mom just tried getting into my old blog and it won't let her in so she created a new one (now that she has her own and knows how). So come here for the summer adventures of a camp couselor.