So I got rid of that apotheosis gmail and everyone is now an admin.
Just to reiterate in case this wasn't clear: This is set so no one can see it except us, for the time being.
Please don't set it to public unless everyone is in agreement.
Right now it's like a clubhouse. A secret clubhouse.
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When I was a kid, my cousin Scott and I had a clubhouse. By clubhouse we really meant any section of my back yard that we could mentally section off into obvious geometric shapes and claim as our own like Vasco Da Gama. There were no walls or clubhouse accoutrements to speak of.
Before long, we developed a pre-teen mission statement for our houseless club, an indicator of true clarity in the way we were to react to the world around us. Our club's main mission in life was to make sure that my little sister and his little brother never set foot on our "property." It was our manifest destiny.
Mind you, we are talking about a piece of real estate that, in total, was a quarter acre with my house sitting right in the middle of it, dividing back yard from front. That made the back yard less than an eighth of an acre and our club "property" some meaningless sliver of that with invisible borders.
As well, Scott and I were the only two idiots in the club. Oh sure, we made up a whole fictional military ranking system so that there would be order if one day our mission culled the masses to our cause.
In the early winter of 1980, Scott and I spent 6.5 hours in two feet of snow, creating an ice Maginot Line along the mental border between our "property" and the rest of the back yard. Finally, not yet allowed to use tools, God had given us the very materials we needed to turn our fictional border into a visible reality...a fortress impervious to the sibling wiles of Amy and Shawn.
We built a snow embankment 3 feet high and fifty feet across stretching the width of the yard. Into it we embedded long icicles as if bracing spears against an ancient cavalry charge. Over the icicles we looped and strung thorns like barbed wire. Behind the embankment we created an arsenal of hundreds of snowballs, piled at the ready. We even came up with a few makeshift catapults that could launch several snowballs at a clip. Guarding us, 6 snowmen lined the interior, each short enough to hide behind the embankment, but tall enough to don a hat in plain sight and act as a decoy. Garbage can lids would be shields; toilet paper rolls our bugle-like call to arms. My mom's melon baller streamlined the process of making icy bullets. All was at the ready for the sibling onslaught!
Then Amy and Shawn stayed in the house playing board games as Scott and I shivered in wait for an attack that would never come.
Secret club? Shit yeah, I'm in!
Having learned our sub zero lesson, we later that summer realized we needed to be smarter to accomplish our mission. We couldn't again be shown as fools prepping for an attack on a single day that might not happen. We needed a foolproof plan to mark off our territory year-round, foiling surprise attacks from Amy and Shawn in all their forms and chronologies.
Our solution? Mix a little bit of every product in my bathroom with one part water and three parts piss into a pink YooHoo bottle to create a concoction sooooooo smelly it would repel all comers. We'd pour it directly on the line between our "property" and the rest of the yard, silent but deadly!
I guess it worked, because Amy and Shawn never truly found any reason to go back there again. HA!
(Meanwhile, try to ditch the picture of two young boys trying to simultaneously piss into a narrow-neck bottle. It would just give "the enemy" too much satisfaction.)
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