So after such a glorious race, we were all set to go to my second favourite place on earth; which is, of course, Spring Mill Bible Camp. Grandma's side trip to Denny's put us an hour behind when we should have been heading out, but alas, that happens sometimes.
The trip from Indianapolis to Mitchell is quite a nice one, with plenty of trees and hills to look at. Some things (businesses and whatnot) along the way haven't changed a bit since the first time we went down there 19 years ago. (Wow, when I put it that way it sounds like a long time.) When we arrived, we had missed pretty much everything, although the camp was still open, so I took my husband on the grand tour.
We went through the boys' side, so we could show him Billy's first cabin (possibly his favourite, although I can't be sure about that). In the course of this little walk Denise told us it was her first time over there. Well, her first time was probably the aforementioned first trip 19 years ago, but I can't imagine she remembers that. But during camp sessions, boys and girls keep to their own sides and are not allowed to venture into enemy territory. Denise, being a well-behaved camper, kept this rule impeccably (Billy did too, actually). But their older sister was, um, less well-behaved. So I've actually been to the boys' side a few times.
The path through the boys' cabins comes out on the ballfield, so I showed Chad the site of the softball-to-the-head incident, and we discussed how freaked out Denise was when she saw me being led to the infirmary with an icepack on my head. She claims not to remember that, either.
So after all that, we strolled around the paths at the back of the campgrounds. We looked for my rock, and Billy and Denise and I all agreed that it was certainly gone. This rock was where I used to go when we had "alone" time (meant to be used for Bible reading, praying, reflecting, whatever), and it became well-known among those who spent two or more weeks at camp every summer to look for me there if ever I couldn't be found. I wanted to show Chad where it was, but it was not to be.
On the way home, we stopped at KFC (yuck), and then when we got back to Greenfield we went to the new custard place (yum). Dad took us home via the scenic route, so we could see some new stuff that's gone up in the 10 years or so since I last drove around Central Indiana.