Clean is relative

There's the Suite dog at the lake. Voted Least Likely to Run Off, he still abides by the leash law whenever not retrieving sticks from the water.

Sarah having a moment with her birthday pinata before it was beaten to shreds and subsequently worn as a hat by the eldest party attendee.

The senorita is nine. 9. Her last year in the single digits, people.

And here are the three silliest senoritas on their way to camp. Madeleine, the girls' best friend Megan, and Sarah peeking out from behind the mountain o' stuff sacks and sweatshirts.

When I picked them up they were all wearing the same clothes they left in. And I can't speak for Megan, but most of the clothing in my girls' packs was still folded. As Madeleine told me, "at camp, clean is relative."

I did receive a couple of letters after all. One was wadded in the bottom of the backpack under two damp swimsuits and a stack of folded jean shorts. One came in the mail three days after the girls returned home. Go, Mr. Postman, go. But don't hurt yourself on that pony.

A short quote from Madeleine's long letter:

"It is better than I expected! I got a bloody nose. And archery and slingshots!"

Non sequiturs run in the family.