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Today's mail, or possibly last week's mail, brought me a brocure for Camp Scripps, which is a curious mix of fabulous and icky. A woman I really liked in college is running a wine tasting, and someone is doing a class entitled "design your own tattoo" - Yay! The rest of the schedule is sort of heavy on items with titles like "Distinguishing Thoughts from Feelings" and "Quest for the Goddess" - Boo is really just not emphatic enough. Part of me is entranced by the possibility of camping out in my old dorms for a week and enjoying all those things I didn't appreciate enough while I was there, like the Fowler Garden and the prettier bits of the library. I also note that it is apparantly possible to book yourself up with massages for the weekend and not really do anything, which could be fun. Unfortunately, Camp Scripps is for Scripps alums only, which mostly makes me reflect that when I was an actual student, I could at least get boys into the dorms. That might explain why I never had enough time for the Fowler Garden: there isn't enough time in the world for BOTH hordes of beautiful undergrads and meditation in the Lady Chapel, and I know where I stand on those issues.