One of my most cherished memories is a night like this. We were fourteen on the cusp of fifteen, I was a troublemaker and somewhat manipulative bitch with raging hormones. We cut class on a Wednesday and spent most of the day pooling our little resources and bad attitudes while ducking everyone in town. Since it was a small town it would not have taken long for a report of "Those three girls and that geek" to get back to school and the truancy officer. Long story short three friends and I ended up in the backwoods of Creoleland with a twenty four pack of piss and enough grass to send a gorilla to the moon. We must have hiked a few miles into the bush, completely unprepared for the trek wearing a sad mix of rejected fashions puked up by the 80's and 90's. Scratched, muddy and thoroughly exhausted we collapsed in a small clearing around dusk and commenced our escape from the stagnant reality we knew if only for a brief moment. I don't remember much about that night other than an almost unbroken chain of laughter and smiles. We forgot who we were and forgot where we had come from. Cell phones did not exist, contact had been severed with the world. We had a tape deck a worn copy of The Wall, and a mix tape of an eclectic collection of rock bands. The batteries ran out before midnight and were left to listen to the world. For that moment under the stars we were truly free. The few things I remember was that we saw twenty-three shooting stars. I don't think I have ever seen the stars as clear as I have that night. 

On New Years this year I took my dogs a six pack of Hopf Weiber Bock and drove out to the park and spent the night under the stars. I have never been so refreshed, I am tempted to make it a Sunday tradition.

So here are the boys enjoying a few Pit-Brews and taking a night off under the vast sea of stars.