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Read the ongoing saga, drawn from real life, but fictionalized to protect the guilty, of high spirited Kuri, straight laced Thomas, and the All Knowing Camp Director as they work to take care of Sensei, and get a nap in before the next practice...
The Summer Camp Director had allowed himself to sleep until 8am, but laying there at 7:30, wondering if he had all the phone numbers, and having wondered the same thing for four hours, he decided he may as well get up. By now, Thomas and Kuri were supposed to have picked up the mats in Mountain View, and were headed towards The City.
When you attend an Aikido camp, you have plenty of worries. With Zen sittings that begin at 5am, and four hours of Aikido each day, it is all you can do to be sure your alarm clock is set, your Gi is clean, and you have eaten enough to sustain the training. But the worries carry a virtue: All other concerns are displaced.
The Summer Camp Director sat at the edge of the bed, while his wife muttered in the kitchen at the cats in her way and the children forgot to put the jam away oh my god it must have been yesterday look at these ants what a waste. The Summer Camp Director reached for the dresser, and stood up using as little of his back as possible. His wife came in muttering about all these Gis monopolizing the hooks for *our* *bathrobes* is your back alright honey?
The Summer Camp Director nodded. "I am" his voice croaked to a halt, then restarted "As a 4th degree black belt, I have learned that you can avoid throwing your back out when getting out of bed by assuming you already have done so."
"Are these gis crumpled on the floor clean or dirty?"
"And to think that six and a half foot tall muscle bound youths call me 'Mr. Sensei Sir'"
"Clean, thank goodness."
"I'll say. So, when do you leave?"
"Don't you mean 'when will my darling return from his trip fraught with responsibility and peril?'"
"I have a cat litter box to clean."
"I can get that."
She smiled a little at that. But then, she knew the Director would do it. And, while they had talked, she had folded the gis.
At the breakfast table, his son placed the cheerio box between himself and his father. He exchanged a look with the Wife of the Camp Director, and between bites of oatmeal, his thoughts turned to how he no longer could displace his worries.
The camp director looses this luxury. When others arrive at the dojo, they assume the mats will be there. Even the people who deliver the mats assume that the doors will be unlocked so they can get in to put the mats down. And, if the doors *are* locked, then you just call the camp director. Well now. If you are the camp director who do you get to call?
"Awww. Poor Daddy." His daughter kissed his head as she entered the dining room.
"Did I say something out loud?"
"Just make sure no one calls *here* in middle of the night."
"Don't worry, only about four dozen people have the number here, and they will all be asleep by midnight. Unless one of them gets arrested like that one year when Pete ran out of toothpaste at 2am and was drunk and tried to drive to the 7-11 across the football field."
"He ran out of toothpaste ... at two am?"
"Happens all the time. Never mind. I'll turn off the ringer. You can just check the messages in the morning."