[Contributor post by Jarod Sickler]
Imagine this: your tent is in the middle of a neighborhood, only to you it doesn’t feel like a neighborhood because your tent is a quarter of a mile out on a peninsula only fifty yards wide. On three sides of you are the beautiful waters of Table Rock Lake. There is only one entrance, and consequently one exit for a land-dweller…
Sometimes, while laying in the tent at night, I wonder about Native Americans and their nomadic culture… picking up their lives to follow the herd and the season’s. I think about how they must have hated Oklahoma, with it’s unpredictable weather and brutal summer storms…
So. I dislike skunks, for reasons obvious to anyone’s olfactory organs… and yesterday I was 3 feet away from being pungently offensive to everyone at the office. Luckily, I have Star Trek like reflexes and I teleported myself 20 feet away in a matter of seconds…
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