Re: [CentralTexasGeocachers] Hey, Stratman, you know this guy?
- Yeah, but, WOW! Go, Doc!On Fri, 18 May 2007 16:50:03 -0700 (PDT) Doc <bcwatson@...> writes:Actually, Bas-Drop (my very first geocache) has been archived as it was probably destroyed by a controlled burn of the underbrush. And all this month (and the last two)I will be/have been very busy in a benchmark hunting contest. I was in first place point-wise for a short time and am now almost tied I think. Going out tomorrow, Gonzales area (no more to find within an hour's drive), to do another full day. I have now found over 400 benchmarks...I will be very glad when this month is over... gas is getting too expensive....Barryaka Doc Geo
StratmanAndTheHoot@... wrote:Yeah yeah yeah... Just keeeeeeeep it up.... I have a little something for you.... Wait until you see my next SNOT cache... We'll see who's laughing then :DActually, I would have thought that guy was me but I never have had the patience to slow-roast a marshmallow (or wiener). I just poke it in the fire (talking about the marshmallow here...) and let it go up in flames and blow it out (if necessary) to prevent it from burning up the stick! I think they melt the chocolate (on the SMORE) better when they are black and bubbly!Gonna do that next week-end, by the way, in Bass Drop State Park :D Goin' campin' in the tent for four days and living on fish we catch or coconuts / bananas we pick. I guess if we get too hungry we can always barge in on Doc Geo :)Curtis / Stratman-----Original Message-----
From: CentralTexasGeocach ers@yahoogroups. com [mailto:CentralTexa sGeocachers@ yahoogroups. com] On Behalf Of Barb Jernigan
Sent: Friday, May 18, 2007 7:49 AM
To: CentralTexasGeocach ers@yahoogroups. com
Subject: [CentralTexasGeocac hers] Hey, Stratman, you know this guy?Simply Tim: DANCE OF THE MARSHMALLOW
It was on the shores of Lake Shakamak, Indiana, where I encountered my
first flaming marshmallow. I was maybe five or six years old, sitting
cross-legged in front of a lazy fire, wearing baggy kids shorts. You
know the kind the ones with gaping leg holes wide enough for an
For an hour or so I had been busy perfecting the fine art of roasting
marshmallows: positioning them just so on a sharpened stick, not placing
any two with touching sides, rotating them SLOWLY as they turned a
bubbly golden brown, little by little. Much to my angst, one nasty
fellow caught fire.
My sister, Pat shouted: "Quick, Tim blow it OUT!"
In a sheer state of panic, I puffed on the marshmallow flambé. It
slipped off the end of the stick and plunged like a smoldering meteorite
right through one of those elephant-short s leg holes, glowing softly as
it sizzled smack dab in the center of my tiny bare crotch.
I havent roasted a marshmallow since.
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