9 boyz and 4 quasi-adults braved the sunshine to ride in Fruita this past weekend.
Of the 9 or so fish we caught, we kept 6, all of which Sz cleaned successfully without cutting his fingers off. But between the obnoxious feral cats, the late hour at which they were cooked and Erik's crying incessantly about his peenie hurting, (Blake had kicked him in the nuts earlier) only a couple were actually eaten. Boy were they good.
Hollenback chilled me out on a great Loma/Horse Thief Loop, we had numerous cruiser rides around the campground, and Julia actually rode the Big Dummy.
Peace.
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Peace and Hairgrease
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