We came back from our walk to see lots of piles of wood on fire. Large piles of wood. The park people were getting rid of brush and saw fit to do so about twenty feet from our tent.

See our tent? See the palmetto? The raging fire was right behind that.

Then we took a nap.

When we awoke, it was nearing dusk and we still had to go get blankets. We ate a quick dinner of perverted veggie weenies roasted over the fire ("Look, May! Genital warts!") and off we went.

But not before May took this picture.

Yeah. I know. Dude.

And when we got back from Wal-Mart, May noticed that what the fuck? Where did all the park people go? It seemed like the park people had abandoned the raging fire to go do something that was so totally not saving our asses from being consumed by burning pine trees.

Anyhoo, the Leonids peaked that night, so around 3am May and I walked to this field-like thing and sat down. It was a very clear night and, despite the nearly full moon, we witnessed a pretty good show. Of course, the EXTREME FUCKING COLD got too bad and we called it a night just after 5.

The next day, I woke up to a message on my cell phone from my mom. Otis, my tortoise, had died that morning. I found my tortoise friend from the day before and talked to him for awhile. It kinda made me feel better.

This is Kurt the 25th.

And these are my nostrils. Hello, nostrils. This picture was an accident, but the nostrils are not. Nostrils. Word has lost all meaning.

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