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June 20, 2003

Up, up, and away.

My brothers, Scott, Dave, and Dave's family, are headed off for a weekend of Mt Washington camping and hiking. I wanted to go along with them, but I have some work obligations that I can't shirk.

One of the things they're planning is to hike/climb up to the summit of Mt Washington. This is one of those adventures that is easy enough that a regular person can usually accomplish it, but tricky enough that once a year or so the news is filled with reports of a massive search for overdue hikers. So when you read about the Hodgson boys in the news, well, you heard about it here first. (Don't worry Ma, they're gonna be fine.)

Now that they are all cut off from net connectivity I can post here that my sister Beth and I, and maybe our parents too, are thinking about driving up Mt. Wash tomorrow to surprise them at the top. But it's supposed to rain. We'll see.

UPDATE: We wimped out and didn't go to surprise them. Now we're waiting to hear that they didn't fall into a ravine.

Posted by jghiii at June 20, 2003 10:04 AM
Posted by: Mr Peabody on June 20, 2003 12:44 PM

Stories of why your family should warn you when they come to visit #1:

Freshman in dorm, goes to the central bathroom to take a shower. Walks to and from the bathroom just wearing a towel. Him and his roommate had seen some ganster movie the night before and had been fooling around pretending to use tommy guns on each other. Knowing his roommate is in the room, he kicks open the door as he tosses off his towel and grabs his johnson, and, pretending it's a tommy gun, holds it as he goes rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat as if he's shooting his roomie, but when he looks he instead finds his family and his hometown girlfriend staring at him.

Posted by: Beth on June 20, 2003 02:37 PM

Did you mean must have gone to school in Melrose.

Posted by: Mr Peabody on June 20, 2003 05:05 PM

Out here in heavily latino california, the second g is often silent.

Posted by: Sherman on June 20, 2003 10:18 PM

You know, people call me the gangster of love.

Sometimes they call me a Space Cowboy.

Or Maurice. Although I don't like to be called Maurice.

But that's what happens when you speak of the pompatus of love

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