After the Wooch! meeting tonight we had a nice fire atop Rock Hill. After some fascinating stories from Paul and Nate Bahls about northern lights, spookin’ people and Nuda Wooch!, we all gathered ’round for a huge game of hot schalaka.
“The game was so great, I’ve got blisters!”
Lots of new people, all learnin’ the peculiar ways of the elders. It was a wonderful sight, really, seeing all this new blood transfusing into the mighty veins of Wooch! Fresh meat.
I also accidentally agreed to do a Statesman write-up for this weekend’s Caribou River trip. Somehow I have to justify it into the Entertainment section. Deadline is Monday. Crap. Well, if I fall to my death on the trip (likely) I might get out of writing the story… but they’ll probably go through the trouble of finding a Necromancer and all and resurrecting my corpse just to get the article written. Newspapers are weird like that.
On another note, I feel the quality of Blithers may be going downhill. Time constraints and a short attention span have greatly reduced the care I put into them. I don’t even think I bother proofreading anymore. If you haven’t noticed, please ignore this paragraph.