What is this sleep you speak of?

It's 3:33 in the morning and my only companions are an empty pizza box and a jug of tap water.

What do I have to say for myself?

Well, I regret drinking that large three shot non-fat caramel machiatto, that's for sure.

And I suppose I regret eating half a pizza at 2:30 in the morning. No no, never mind, I don't regret the pizza. It tasted good and who cares if my belly is hanging over the elastic in my sweatpants a little. The beauty of the matter is that it will disappear when I stand up, ok maybe not completely disappear but it will drastically shrink in size, like I splashed cold water on it. That was unintentionally inappropriate. I can't be blamed for any words that leak out of my fingertips at this point in time.

It's now 3:36 in the morning and I've left an absurd amount of incoherent videos and cryptic messages on countless victims facebook walls. My tag name is Bivouacked Insomniac.

I have to drive to the airport in approximately 45 minutes. So that means I have 45 more minutes to while away, whilst making no sense, and smelling like day old pizza crust.

I haven't showered in almost three days and I haven't shaved my legs since I found my runaway razor in the small pocket of my 7 yr old Jansport backpack. It's been awhile.

I feel dirty and I think it has to do with more than my lack of showering. I think it might have to do with the linens I'm lying in. They're no longer sheets. They've been enveloped by dog hair, which means they've become more like some sort of creepy rug sent to render me restless.

Which is why I'm still awake at 3:43 in the morning.

I hope airport security doesn't deny me entry due to my eau de canadian bacon, or my newly dawned transient style hairdo, or my overall frumpy floppy lack of femininity.

Because that would be quite unfortunate.

I guess I'll go brush my hair, and try to get the pineapple chunks out from between my teeth. I must say, Hernando's pizza did me well, but as my mind plays tricks on me, so does that pizza play tricks on my bowels.

I hope you've enjoyed reading the raucous carousals of The Bivouacked Insomniac.

Chip chip cheerio. G'day fair maidens and men.

Commemoratives.

My time in Colorado has come to a sweet and savory close.

It's been a delight.

I think I could move to Colorado and be quite content. What with the rocky mountain highs, the altitude induced euphoria, the endless ranges to explore, I'm not sure why I haven't moved already.

Back to reality, ohht there goes gravity.

Flying back to Oregon tomorrow at 6:05 am, which means I have to catapult myself out of bed at 4am, which means I should have knocked myself unconscious, oh, about four hours ago...

But I was socializing. No time for sleep when there's conversation to be had.

I got to check another YoungLife camp off my list today. I tramped around Crooked Creek Ranch and when I say tramp, I mean trudge, sludge, scramble. Apparently it's mud season at the ranch. I nearly lost my shoes in the muck, but the mud only proved to be a cheap source of entertainment, rather than a dirty nuisance. I enjoyed my brief time at the CCR. I got to play in housekeeping a bit today. I indulged in my three favorite hygienic pastimes and those include but are not limited to, scrubbing toilets, washing dished, and folding towels.

My heart is full.

I got to meet all the interns at Crooked Creek and learn a bit about how their program operates. It was really cool to be immersed in a rich and genuine community so similar and yet so different from my own campy community.

And now I'm back in the princess bed for a brief stint before it's back to my home, my Oregon home.

Things to remember from this trip...

• Dan Dyer's incessant "your mom" jokes colliding with Peter Gleish's 8 kids with weird names. (Peter's words, not mine.)
• Becoming a grown-up in the YL service center. Yup. I sorted through hundreds of college emails in an effort to transition to a new grown up email address. Almost there.
• Running trails with no direction or destination, deciding I need to be near moving water always
• The local Loaf & Jug. Provides for a swell topic of conversation.
• Ambling antelope on the way to the airport. 
• Dazzling moonlight on mountains. 
• Don't ever get a dog that sheds. You'll spend your life savings on lint rollers. And that's just pathetic. So be advised.
• Minneolas are da bomb. Cross between a Duncan grapefruit and a Dancy tangerine. Wikipedia definition. Although I wish I could claim that description.
• Rich time with Jesus in the Soobie (aka the Subaru.)
• Hernando's pizza in Winter Park. Go there. And color a dollar to add to the 20,000 that decorate the dingy walls. The sight will pop your eyeballs, open, not out. Seriously, quite the sight. 
• Poor Richard's Discount Bookstore. I think I could have spent all the fake money I have in there. Dear Jesus, help me not to love books so much that I spend all the fake money I have on them. My credit card can't handle any more swiping for books. Gosh, I just love books so much. I discovered a new author at Poor Richard's. Her name is Sloane Crosley and the book is called "I Thought There'd Be Cake." Need I say more?

Enough remembering. Time for sleep.

Pray that my brain might function properly and that I don't hit an antelope on the way to the airport. That would be rather unfortunate, for both me, and the antelope.

Good night dear friend. Sleep with angels.

Of Mice and Middle Schoolers.

What was supposed to be 16 hours of brain clobbering video training magically poofed itself into 24 hours.

Welcome to being on salary.

Kidding, but my brain is donezo fo sho. It's been two days of absolute mayhem. But I'm feeling quite peaceful, quite confident considering...considering the information overload and the complete lack of experience that I had prior to this 24 hour training sesh. I have the knowledge, now I just need to hone the skills.

Praise the Lord, I have 6 weeks to practice at camp before camp actually starts. I really am so incredibly excited for this summer, for this opportunity, for this alternative direct form of ministry that I get to be a part of. I get to creatively package up the Gospel and send it home with kids. What cooler job could there be? Ok, maybe getting paid copious amounts of money to travel around the world writing stories might be slightly cooler, but hey, this is pretty phenomenal. I don't think that I've stressed enough how grateful and absolutely blessed I feel to have been trusted and believed in to this extent. I have a HUGE job this summer. A crucially pivotal astronomically important job. That was rather redundant but I just wanted to help you understand the amount of stress I'm going to be under...so that you might think of me and pray for me, for this ministry, for my fellow video interns, for my equipment, for my safety, and my sanity.

So I decided I really like Frontier Ranch. Not only did I have some pretty significant spiritual encounters here as a camper 6 yrs ago, I had some pretty monumental moments this time around as well.

Monumental moment #1...finding a YoungLife shirt in the store with a giant donkey on the front. And then realizing that I get 20% off of it, because yes, that's right, I'm on YoungLife staff.

Monumental moment #2...witnessing a middle school Jesus battle chant. There's a middle school camp sharing the same vicinity as us, and yes, they are delightful to observe. At dinner today a battle cry broke out just after the meal commenced and I almost wanted to jump into the monotony. "We love Jesus, yes we do, We love Jesus, how bout you?!" Escalating louder, and louder, and louder. You might not think that pre-pubescent middle schoolers could get that loud, oh, but they can. My favorite was the boy who appeared to be not much older than 10, claiming that he was an eighth grader. Almost dropped the peach drank right out of my mouth on that one.

Monumental moment #3...watching the mouse skitter past my peripheral vision about 5 feet away from me. Now I know my home isn't the only ranch that has rodent issues. We're not alone Janelle! I won't even dare pull up the blankets of that bed over there searching for the nest. This time it's not my problem. Except for the fact that I still have to sleep one more night in this place. Damn. Perhaps I'll roll my body up in the two, not just one, camp blankets that were provided with my bed pack. Except these heated floors mixed with our inability to adjust the thermostat, make it about as hot (oh my gosh, the mouse just ran by again) as the oven when you're baking biscuits, except I'm not a biscuit, I'm just an exhausted video intern trying to escape the unpredictable rodents I'm momentarily residing with.

It's a hard knock life, I tell ya.

Spending a weekend with middle schoolers has really got me thinkin' about bein' a Wyldlife leader sometime in the distant future. I think I could have a good time with those kiddos.

And now I'm going to escape while I still can, before the mouse grabs his posse and begins his own Jesus battle cry all over my weary body. I don't think I could even fight back at this point. So instead I'll go play shuffle board with my new techy friends.

Peeeeeeace ouuuttttt!!

Video.

Still in Colorado...and I recently came to the realization that I might be well on my way to breaking some sort of record....

a record for the most YoungLife camps toured and explored in the shortest amount of time.

Within two weeks time I will have meandered all over Malibu Club, frolicked around Frontier Ranch, cleaned some toilets at Crooked Creek, and of course, rolled some dough at the Ranch, my home, the whimsical, wonderful, wolloping mouthful of Washington Family Ranch.

Wouldn't you say that's a record? Four camps, two states, and two countries. Dude, I get around.

Frontier's got it goin' on though. What with the heated floors, reliable wireless internet in my bed, mason jar  jug glasses so precious I wanted to steal one (morally sound? perhaps not.), and a swimming pool heated to a pleasant 85 degrees, I wonder why I've found myself locked in a room with 9 other people playing with computers all day.

Oh wait, that's because I'm here on business. I can't complain though. My job is sooooo rad. I get to play with a brand new Mac complete with a  27" screen and Final Cut Pro version 7.0. I teared up a bit when my instructors, Mr. Dan Dyer and Mr. Brendan Boykin, seated me and said this would be the computer I would be working with this summer. The exact one. Like a kid in a candy shop, I tell ya.

I'll admit, there were moments when I nearly peed all over myself and wanted to scurry out the door with my imaginary tail tucked between my legs, due to the insane amount of information being chucked at my weak and defenseless little brain, but alas, God is good, and I made it through. And I think I'm gonna be ok with this whole video internship. I just need practice. Lots and lots of practice. Which is nice, considering I'm shooting a wedding in two weeks and there are a myriad of music videos moseying around in my mind, just waiting to be shot and edited.

And I'm not the only giiirrrlllll!! I thought I was going to be the only girl here, considering the video internship is fairly male dominated. Most things techy at camp normally are. But Jillian and Courtney are here and they are delightful. Jillian will be at Lost Canyon and Courtney will be at Lake Champion. They're both about three years younger than me, but that's alll good. We just spent hours bonding over youtube videos. You know how that is...

And now it's time to lay my frazzled little media jargon filled head to rest, so that I can pummel it again tomorrow.

Spiritual side note...I just read through half of Leviticus and nearly laughed out loud (probably not the proper reaction, forgive me) as I pictured us sacrificing animals in modern day society. I think that that is all we would have time for. Sinning and sacrificing. We sin so often that we would constantly be sacrificing and there would be absolutely no time for anything else. Don't you think?

Well thank you Jesus for a most prosperous and productive day, and for being the ultimate sacrifice. Seriously, you da bomb.

Royalty.

I'm currently living the life of a princess. Legitimately and completely.

I woke up to the sun shining through my windows. I got lost in the guest bed. It's the perfect size, leaving just enough room for my feet to hang over the edge. The cornflower blue bedding is aesthetically pleasing and the down feathers soothe my weary body.

Upon prying myself up and out of the comfort, I decided I wanted to test my lungs and engage them in a gritty battle with the altitude. Went out for five miles and everything about it was perfect. The air, brisk and still. The sun, perfect position in the sky. The geographic location, absolutely majestic. I adore running in unfamiliar places with no destination. Makes me feel like a pioneer, an explorer on an expedition to discover new ground unknown to these curious feet of mine. I found some sweet trails that led to a sweet river and that's where I discovered that no matter where I choose to lay my head at night for the rest of my life, I must be within running distance of moving water come morning time. I could sit next to chattering water for my whole life and never get tired of it. Running water is mesmerizing. It's so constant and faithful, and yet so uncertain and ever-changing. It's always moving, always changing location. It never visits the same place twice. It's always wandering and challenging boundaries, carving new crevices, bringing life to all things parched.

After my all too fulfilling run in which my lungs did a victory dance all over that petty altitude, I took a shower with luxury. Felt like I was bathing under a waterfall. Thoroughly delightful.

I cleanly sat down to a breakfast of biscuits and jam that were said to be capable of changing my life. And I think they did. With the perfect amount of butter and jam, the flaky morsels danced in my mouth causing a sort of euphoria unbeknownst to me before. Washed down with a freshly brewed cup of coffee complete with a dash of half and half and a sprinkle of vanilla bean sugar, my life was complete at that moment. Took a refreshing dip in the Bible. Confided in my journal for a moment. And now here I am in my most cherished environment yet again, that of a cozy coffee shop. Only this one's a tea house as well. Sipping on a sour peach tea and listening to my newly acquired 500 Days of Summer Soundtrack, life is good. God is good.

Aside from my toothbrush falling in the toilet this morning, I think that today is going to be another fruitful day.

Thank you, praise you, Jesus, you really are superb.

I have been changed.

Today is a beautiful day. You want to know why?

Not only am I in Colorado Springs, home of the Olympic Training Center as well as the nation's best hockey team, but I'm here with a best friend, in the best guest room, in the best little house, in the best neighborhood. And by the best neighborhood I mean that I'm right off Wood St. Apparently that's a big deal by C Springs standards.

I knew today was going to be a good day when I got seated in the first row on the airplane from Utah to Colorado. The first row. Which means I was the first person off the plane today. I got to witness the maneuvering of the airplane de-boarding contraption. You know what I'm talking about. It was rad. Really rad. Being the first person off the plane has it's benefits, not only am I the first to breathe the fresh Colorado air, but I don't have to bang my head in my haste to get out of the way of the antsy angsty people in all the rows behind me. I just stepped right off. No haste. No angst.

I get to hang out with Ann Shackelton for the next four days. Ann Shackelton. Related to Mr. Ernest Shackleton, owner and pioneer of the epically venturesome ship Endurance. Yeah, she's famous. In my world at least. And she's huge in YoungLife. Like she gets to hang out with Denny Rydberg often. Often often. She's the Vice President of Field Relations and today, I got to drive by the Service Center, THE YoungLife Service Center. And Wednesday, I get to spend some time wandering in it. I feel so important. So honored. So adventurous.

I'm here in Colorado on business. Meaning, I didn't have to pay to get here. Meaning, I'm getting job training for this summer. How cool is that? I'm in Colorado on business.

And I get to cross another YoungLife camp off my list. My video training is at Frontier Ranch, which I've been to as a camper about 6 years ago, but after my training I'm driving out to Crooked Creek to visit a fellow year-long intern. So amped.

Today is a beautiful day. Currently laying on a couch, belly full of Chipotle burrito bowl, being soothed by the sounds of Deej and Michelle and the ever nostalgic Full House.

So now let's backtrack. I'd like to take you on a brief replay of my time at Malibu Club.

Beginning with how absolutely unexcited I was about the escapade the two days prior to the trip.

I had just gotten back from a really fast road trip to San Francisco. Everything in my body was depleted. Driving 21 of 72 hours will do that to you. I got back to camp with 4 full work days before Malibu. I had volunteered to drive to Canada. Because I love driving, and double bonus, drivers don't have to pay for gas or ferry rides.

But the adventure to Malibu takes a grand total of 13 hours.

And our work day prior to this adventure was the most daunting of all work days. We were due to leave Sunday night after work and Sunday was forecast to be a tornado of soiled linens and sinister buildings, calling out to be cleaned. This weekend camp got hit hard, and by hard, I mean brutally unmercifully hard. We had 4 different groups in and all buildings in camp were used and had to get cleaned before we were allowed to leave. Sundays are normally the highlight of my week because all the interns get to work together to transform camp back into the glistening glamourous wonderland where kids get to hang out with God, but this weekend, this weekend I was dreading Sunday. After the fact I feel terrible for dreading it because it was the most fun I'd had at work in awhile. Everyone was amped for Malibu and our boss Erin had tampered with the cleaning sched allowing us to get off work at 3:30...instead of what we had assumed to be 7. Hip hip Hooray!

So then we hit the road. For our 7 1/2 hour journey to Bellingham where we would sleep for a few wee hours and then hit the road again to the ferry and then hit the road again to the water taxi, after which we would finally arrive at Malibu at 1pm Monday afternoon.

But before we get to Malibu, let's talk about the drive up. Dude, my car was full of the most phenomenal people. My two besties and our newest edition to the clan Mr. Bill Palmaymesa. That's right, Sonia, Daniel, Bill, and I had an everlasting epic experience, in which I legitimately laughed so hard that I couldn't breathe. Sonia and I were Shishters from Shamammish. Bill nearly blew some blood vessels doing the "I'm so pished" voice. And Daniel's Helen Keller impression will get you in the gullet no matter how morally sensitive you are.

We arrive in Bellingham at 1ish am. Sonia and I selfishly swooped the only guest bed available while everyone else swooped some cold concrete in the garage or some carpet in the living room.

Our selfish decision had its repercussions. I felt like I was in a waterfall every time someone flushed the toilet in the bathroom next door. And apparently the lady of the house had food poisoning so there were sounds of dry heaving and the splashing of vomity chunks serenading us the whole night long.

We jump started our Monday with fat Costco cupcakes, disguised as muffins, and then we bombarded the local Starbucks on our way to the border, where Sonia introduced me to my new drink of choice, the lovely, the lively, caramel machiatto. Who knows what machiatto even means, sounds like a word to describe the man named Guido with the muscle shirt sitting outside the local tattoo parlor, but alas it's my new favorite beverage. Iced or hot, it's delightful.

After just short of intravenously injecting caffeine into my bloodstream, we headed to the border, the US/Canada border. But upon arrival, it was closed.

What?

The border has hours of operation. Like a business. The border is open from 8am to 11pm. God forbid we arrive at 7:59 or 11:01.

What?

So then we drive another half hour to another border crossing. This time, mission successful.

All missions successful.

We all made it across the border without completely losing our cool due to the interrogation process that is required for entry into Canada. I almost got sassy and answered "Canaduhhh" when asked where I was going. Good thing I refrained, might have been denied entry for that pop off.

We get to the car ferry, you know the kind where you actually drive your car onto the boat? Yeah, that kind. We drive on. We drive off. There was some wind. Some epic views. An epic bail, yeah Sonia fell onboard due to the wind. No falling overboard though.

After we drive off, we wind down a road for another hour and a half. Wind. And wind. Sonia's carsick. And then we arrive. At the water taxi.

We board the water taxi for another hour long adventure on a speedboat.

And then we arrive.

We arrive at the magical majestical Malibu Club. It's ten times better than the last time I was there. The weather is absolutely glorious. The birds twitter. The water babbles. The people glow. And I just can't get enough. I breathe deep. And exhale all the dirty road trippy air out of my lungs and suck in all the organic oceany air that I can get, deep into the achy lungs nestled deep in my chest. I've ached for this place. This oasis. This spiritual superstore where you go to overdose on all things Godly.

So I breathe it in. And then I volunteer to move bunks.

Yes, we took vacation days from the canyony camp to come work in the Canada version of camp. Seems absurd but totally and completely sane. Go there. You'll understand.

So I volunteered to relocate bunk beds and giant armoires in all the camper rooms. They've been moved due to a recent bed bug issue. The exterminators have been through and there is toxic bug dust everywhere. So long sweet oceany air. Hello extraordinarily attractive fumigating face mask.

We move bunks. And we take breaks. Lots of breaks. Fresh air breaks. The work in Canada is super chill. Supa dupa chill. We work from 9 to 3 with the rest of the day to play.

To avoid eating up even more of your day, I'll give you a very quick rundown of the highlights of this adventure starting...

Now.

1. Craig Inglesby speaking fierce and life-changing truth into my life. And weeping. Never before has a man ever wept for or about me. I will never be the same.

2. Kayaking amidst a flock of seals, not to be confused with seagulls.

3. Falling with style on two separate occasions. Once into a waterfall, and once into the side of a rock face.

4. Playing goalie in a ferocious game of floor hockey.

5. Meat candy. Yup, meat that melts in your mouth.

6. Napping at Hamburger Point in a t-shirt, in the sun, whilst drooling on a book.

7. Pouring concrete.

8. Learning how to drive a tractor.

9. Pillow talk with my best friend Sonia, complete with an "I love you, Goodnight."

10. A Tim Tam slam with Brian Anderson.

Ok, those are my top 10. Merely the icing on the cake. The morsels are too plentiful to recount in their entirety. I hope you enjoyed it. Wish you could have been there with me.

And to think, I wasn't excited at first. Silly silly me.

Until next time, don't be afraid to grab someone's attention and ask them if you can ask them a question...and then when they say you certainly may, go ahead and look them in the eyes, and speak some truth into their life.

It will change them. And you.

Segue.

One week I'm in San Francisco.

The next week I'm in Canada.

The next week I'm in Colorado.

Welcome to my life.

I just got back from a jovial jaunt in British Columbia and Monday I head out on a creative escapade in Colorado Springs for my video training.

Prepare to reach over your right shoulder and put on that nifty little seat belt because my next blog will take you on a wild ride, filling you in on the majesty that is YoungLife's Malibu Club and all the myriad adventures I had there.

But for now, I rest, relax, rejuvenate.

And prepare for the next adventure.

Good night.

Bums and Bag Ladies.

I already knew I had a thing for homeless people before I went to San Francisco this weekend, but frolicking along Fisherman's Wharf rekindled the fire in my heart for them.

I think I have a bum shaped pocket in my heart simply because I was homeless until I was 15. I wasn't houseless, just homeless. Every house I lived in never felt like home. And my mom is a house on wheels away from being homeless. She resides in an RV with no job, no money, and no hope. My heart yearns for her to be happy, cries out for her to be whole.

Her rather unfortunate residence flings soiled newspapers on the fire in my heart for the wandering vagrants of this world. They have stories to tell just like us.

I'm reading a book called Good News for the Chemically Dependent and Those Who Love Them. Not all, but a heck of a lot of homeless people were once, or still are, strung out on some sort of chemical. They started using the chemical as a means of avoiding some sort of heavy emotion. Sooner, rather than later, they became dependent on the chemical so that the light at the top of the pit started shrinking exponentially as they scratched their way deeper and deeper.

I don't want to put addicts or vagrants in boxes, they've seen enough of the carboardy kind. I'll leave them out of the proverbial boxes too. I just want you to read the book. Perhaps it will help you be a little more compassionate towards the man loitering on the median as you exit the freeway. And regardless of whether or not you give them money, smile at them.

As I walked and drove the wild streets of San Francisco these past couple days, there were moments when I wanted to stop and ask a homeless person to dance with me. I know. Point and laugh at me. But my heart cries out for them, just wants to leap out of my chest and shout joy into their lives, joy and hope.

And the transients in San Francisco are clever, so very clever. I saw a one man band, complete with guitar, drums, cymbals, harmonica, and a great voice. I saw several men that appeared to be made of tin, that would dance when you put money in their bucket. There were men that jumped out of trashcans and from behind make believe bushes that asked for money once they succeeded in scaring the hell out of you. I even saw a man screaming "I don't hate society. I hate you." I almost gave him money for his honesty. I saw two guys with a carboard sign that said "why lie, I need a beer." on one side and "I like weed." on the other. As I walked by one of the guys said "she likes roses, I like weed." as he gestured to me. I met a kind vagabond on a meridian who tried to give me directions that I didn't need.

Homeless people are so incredibly intriguing to me. After this year I want to be homeless on purpose. I really do. I want to wander this country with a pack on my back and dwell with the tramps. My cardboard signs will be so clever they'll knock your pants off. I once saw a bum with a sign that said, "Ninjas killed my family. Please help." My signs will probably be outrageous like that, and they'll probably all involve unicorns in some capacity.

So my word of advice for this bloggity, don't give them money, but please smile at them, speak to them, tell them that they matter. Because they don't believe they do.