It is so unbelievably hot and so unbelievably humid, that by the time I got to my car today after work I felt like I was on fire- at the bottom of a lake.
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Not hardly related, but nonetheless: Oldest son called the other night offering to bring over some jalapeño poppers he had prepared and was about to grill.
About 15-20 minutes into our conversation, he starts whoppin' and hollerin' something fiece, with a stream of invective that would embarrass a sailor (the Lord weren't none too pleased, neither).
Inquiring into his predicament, it seems that he'd cut up quite a mess of peppers, then decided to take a whiz - without first thoroughly washing his hands. The Donalbane family jewels were apparently at or near roasting temperature, from what I gathered.
The first rule of holes is that, when one finds oneself in one, to stop digging. Son proceeded to give me a play-by-play, as his hands made contact with other areas of his anatomy. Before finally deciding a shower might help, he had doused a kitchen towel in milk to apply to the affected area(s). While I'm incapable of Schadenfreuede with regard to serious matters, I kinda draw the line at dumbassery, and could not suppress a hearty guffaw.
Being a kind Dad, I offered to bring him over some Habaneros for his next project.
(In a similar vein, an old friend once related to me a similar story, except that it pccurred to his wife - during 'pre-game activities' - when she got frisky after he'd made a batch of warm-ish salsa. I think he ended up forfeiting that day's game.)
They're not married anymore.
*fierce
*occurred
ha great story Don. A connected thought: I came across your story of the camping trip and the 357 Magnum in the bushes and all of that the other day pretty super good man
I'd forgotten about having shared that story. Wichita Mountains Wilderness Area. Yeah, that wasn't quite the weekend of glorious rappelling that I'd hoped it would be. I was incredibly blessed to be able to find my revolver, and to this day it remains one of my favorites (I've not had to hide it in the bushes since).
If I'd known then what I know now, we'd have traveled just about 60 miles to get to LMWSP where I think the vertical faces are about the same magnitude, and the scenery is arguably better than WM. I've always liked that lake, although have not camped there. A retired buddy of mine is fond of motorhome campsite #23 on the north side, and has invited me to visit him and his wife sometime on one of their visits.
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