The weekend's theme has been rather fiendish, actually. Friday night, Mrs Death and I got together with some old friends of mine, whom I think I've seen all of twice in the last 25 years. Talk about ghosts from the past! It was Mr Vance Pitzer's birthday, so he's now been made to feel appropriately aged, I do believe. Unfortunately, our mutual friends, the Albaneses, had issues that prevented them coming to the gathering, but we sort of rectified that last night. I had spent the afternoon placing a couple of new geocaches with spooky themes ("The Chatmoss Ghost" and "Sticks," based on Karl Edward Wagner's horror story of the same name), and so Joe, Suzy, and Sam went out into the deep, dark woods and found those little scary boxes.One evening back in 1982, Mr Pitzer (pictured above, along with his lovely wife Kathy and some dude)—along with several other young friends (a few of whom were minors at the time) went to Pizza Hut. We ordered a pitcher of beer, but since there were minors at the table, the restaurant staff said they couldn't serve us any beer. Suitably indignant, Vance says to the waitress, "Don't you know who I am?" Unimpressed, she shakes her head. "I'm Mr Pitzer. My dad owns Pitzer Hut."
Needless to say, we got that pitcher of beer.
