There's one spot at the camp, out back between the kitchen and the dumpster, where I can get phone messages if I stand on one leg, point my left hand due North-Northwest, and recite the alphabet backward in a Cookie Monster voice. Unless the Cellular Deities have bestowed new towers in the wilderness of the Catoctins, I'm afraid this will be the extent of my connectivity. One night we're planning to take the girls into Civilization to see a movie, so I might have a technology reprieve midweek. We'll have to wait and see.
In the mean time, I hope y'all enjoy the Internets without me. I'm going to have to figure out this newfangled thing called a "book." It's made of paper, but it's full of words! Just like the Internets! Unfortunately, I think I got a defective book, because there's no photos of cats doing funny things, or GIF's of Doctor Who, and no clicky-links! Gah!
|Morgan: Defender of the Camp Shirts|