peanuts roasting on a campfire…

telling bob stories by campfire

I like campfires.  I don’t go camping much.  Actually, I don’t go camping at all.  But I like french fries even though I’ve never been to France… (and before you email Frank, I looked it up, they’re Belgian)

Yes, I may be exposing my egoism… why not?  It needs sunlight and air to live just like a lot of other mossy things.  My ego and I have long conversations about us.  It’s our favorite topic to interact on.  Why do campfires always have to be ghost story territory?  Why can’t a squirrel make into that genre?