While I was out...

...life seemed to go on without me.

I've been at a dance camp in West Virginia for the last several days. Looking at a collection of images from Buffalo Jam 2003, I don't appear much. But when I do... well, I could be wrong, but it looks like I'm still losing weight (the guy in the grey teeshirt, left of center). We can only hope. They put me in charge of the lighting of the pavillion this year. I arrived a day early to do most of it. I stayed up late Saturday night, till about 3 in the morning, passing the Irish whiskey around and playing with the musicians who came. They included some friends of mine with whom I jam whenever they're here. That was the best time of all.

I caught up with some folks I met in Seattle last December, giving them fair warning that I'd be there in August. I also made lots of new friends among both dancers and musicians. The former included reminiscing about the old days when I was on the dance gypsy circuit. The latter was a great opportunity to forge some new directions. I got invited by one of the dance instructors to visit Lafayette LA. I just may take them up on it over the holidays this year.

It rained most of the time until Saturday afternoon, so I didn't get to use my new inflatable kayak. We'll be hitting the beach soon enough though.

Come Sunday morning, I was nowhere near a church. So I got out my missal, set up a crucifix and candles, and read the prayers and readings of the Mass in the privacy of my cabin room. I had a hand-carved icon of the Madonna and Child made in Poland on the chest of drawers, my only decoration in the room (other than my Mom's quilt on the bed). I even had it covered with a garland of little white Christmas lights.

My last official act at the camp was to jump in the lake. Really. I got dressed again and got in the car, completely refreshed from diving headlong into the cold water, while heading back toward civilization as I know it.

Yesterday morning, I was totally whipped. I slept till noon, did some laundry, and caught up with my cousin Terri, in from Kansas for the annual American Nurses Association meeting. I have over forty cousins on my mother's side alone, and Terri's one of those with whom I keep in touch the most. We're about the same age, and she was my, uh, "date" for the Nathan Williams/CJ Chenier dance last night at the Birchmere. I trained her well, and she has very little trouble mixing with a crowd. Maybe we'll hit the Adams Morgan district tonight. I hope the police have settled down by then. They were all over the place last night. Could've been anything. Could've been nothing. This Nine Eleven thing has got them a little jumpy, know what I mean?

In the bigger picture, the American bishops met last week. From what little I read, between them and the press and the pundits and the various reform groups, there was the usual stumbling over one anothers. I put a lot of stock in whatever CWN reporter Philip Lawler has to say on the subject -- short and to the point. I'm still waiting to hear what they did about that liturgical dance thing. I'll bet they got right on that one. People tell me I have great legs, but the thought of fitting into a pair of tights... well, never mind. One good thing, though. At least they apologized to Mel Gibson.

Oh, and one more thing. My weblog turned one year old on the 21st of June.

Not that any one would notice. I have the disadvantage of not having established a reputation as a great thinker or writer or whatever outside the blogosphere. And I'm not a mad creative genius like Victor Lams. So I either make it or break it right here.

At least I haven't been sued yet. Stay tuned...