This is me at the highest point we could reach of The Great Wall. I was told there was a Starbucks up here. I got news for you--capitalism has not reached this far. I am a 41 year old, balding, slightly pooched, guy who is sweating like a pig. I cannot breathe and my chest is pounding. If I had to make choice, I would rather get hit by a truck, have a kidney stone, and a cystoscopy, and a knee surgey, all at the same time, than climb these steps again. I am heading back down--time me. If I do not blog again in 45 minutes, please call Great Wall 911 and tell them a stinking (literally) American has dropped to his knees somewhere on the Great Wall. Kids, I love you.
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5 comments:
Seriouly...how much do we loooove Sir Edmund Nicholson! Dave, no need for the rest of your family to entertain...you do it quite well yourself. Has it been 45 minutes yet?
Oh Dave- you make my day everytime I read these. You make me feel better about myself too.... At least I am not the only one who doesn't move well!
your descriptive words really paint a picture for me. its like i am there! keep it up, killer..
Pooch...Dave, you are truly Henry's brother. Your "styles," and I use that term loosely, are so similar. It's eerie....Have a safe and pleasant trip. Keep blogging. We love you & Missy!
LOOOOOOOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!
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