We're sitting outside at one of the few electrical outlets that fall within the narrow beam of internet connectivity at the 40th annual Kerrville Folk Festival, surrounded by guitar-playing hippies. Neither I nor that Wikipedia link are any good at explaining why it's so wonderful to camp in the chigger-infested Hill Country heat and listen to banjos at 3 a.m., so just understand that I'm doing those things instead of posting this week.
Until I get back next week, you can spend the time thinking about the lunch I watched someone eat today: Peanut butter straight from the jar, a brick of dry Ramen noodles (Oriental Flavor), and a tepid can of SpaghettiOs. I'm also pretty sure I saw him debating whether to use the spoon on the SpaghettiOs while it was still half full of peanut butter.
Camping. Yes.
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