Sunday, October 20, 2013

Roasting Field Mice

It's autumn, and along with bare trees and cool, crisp nights in the Adirondacks comes bonfires.

Bonfires are better than TV.  There's no commercials, no reruns, and no lame laugh tracks.  There's something mesmerizing about a fire... the glowing coals, the dancing flames, the snap and pop of the embers... that's primeval.   Primitive man no doubt felt exactly the same way, huddled around his campfire, roasting his field mice on a stick, taking comfort in the warmth and glow of his fire.

You should consider building bonfires, no matter where you live.  It may be a useful skill to have after January when our adept Congress decides whether to shut the government down or keep it open again.

I did.  I used "adept" and "Congress" in the same sentence.  That's called sarcasm, and I'm very good at it.

Now, I just need to learn how to catch field mice.  They probably taste like chicken, eh?   With some hot sauce, maybe like chicken wings?  Being thoroughly modern, we did hot dogs on a stick.  There is absolutely nothing better than a campfire cooked hot dog... all black and charred on the outside... crunchy... perfect!

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