Tomorrow I shall yet again proudly head to the rugged north* for a night of testing my constitution against the elements! The trip is long and fraught with peril, but nigh 14:00, 6-8 brave souls will strap themselves into the one vehicle that can survive the arduous journey. Yes, the church van will be fully gassed up and loaded with food, clothing, and games for those daring enough to look in their maker’s eyes and laugh.
One hour of body-numbing talk radio later, we shall park beside this year’s conquest: A fully equipped lodge on the lake.
Battling unruly wood stoves and unfluffed pillows, we try to make the lodge as comfortable as possible, circumstances considered. Adrenaline constantly surges, as you never know when the cook will try to over spice your dinner. In the wild, on rash shake of pepper just might kill you. I beg adieu of you, my dear friends, however, go I must. It is times like these that realign my inner man so that I might return once again, having the fortitude to rule the world of paper-pushing with an iron fist.
This may be my last communique. I hear someone’s bringing Apples to Apples, so things may get pretty rough.
*Man, that was a lousy write up last year.