So the food was worse than it had been in the past. The price is right for the Getaway. I, for one, don't want the job of locating camps who will take all of us wild banshee types. And I don't attend the Getaway because of the prospect of good eats. (Or a decent mattress, for that matter. Not only were they woarn out, when everyone in the cabin rolled over, it sounded like popping corn and woke me up from my sweet snoring!) Shared travails bring us closer, eh?
Jeri--how come I didn't know you are a gardener? You been holdin' out on me, girl! I demand pm's about the joys of diggin' in the dirt and gardening in the North vs. the South. Sheez!
And Bobert--stop that sniffin'--go to doctor, boy. You done infected half of mudcat!