When you’re ready, they will be here,
waiting by your bedside, dear.
Or on the kitchen counter, perhaps laying on the couch,
waiting to share some stories you know nothing about.
They’ll be here when excited youth,
drops you into seasoned couth,
and you can pick some new songs, ones with pointed lyrics,
singing beyond the scope of limited empirics.
I learned something today. The mountain I climbed Wednesday was named for Chief Paugus, who was the head of the Pequawket tribe, a sect of the Abenaki. He lived near Conway, New Hampshire, in the early 1700s, and was killed at the Battle of Pequawket (or Lovewell’s Fight) in 1725. Paugus means “The Oak,” implying…
I realize it might be sacrilegious in a way, to rank the 4000-footers, but my recent foray into New Hampshire’s 52 With a View mountains has got me thinking about the mountains I’d really like to see again—and the ones I don’t. A recent trip to Mount Paugus wasn’t my favorite, and even though I…
Or maybe I should call him Bullet the Wondershit, because last week, angry that I was spending so much time away from the house, he decided to strategically shit in a number of areas to make a point. See, normally I take him on a daily romp through the woods, but because of all these…