Once a year my Sunday school class (with assorted friends and families and misc. characters) goes on a campout. We go to the middle of nowhere in western Illinois, and eat food, play football, eat more food, have s’mores, the kids go on tractor rides, and we just have a grand time. This year I didn’t go – I’ve recently started a new job and didn’t want to lose a night’s sleep (and with Spouse snoring, Princess kicking, the rooster that can’t tell time, and the donkey in the next field braying all night — I would lose a night of sleep). Then, Sunday morning (after losing a night of sleep) we have breakfast. And, every year if Mr.H is there, he treats us to his version of the following …I enjoy the skit — I pass on the Spam.
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