Roadtrip Day 332
Well, Saturday morning and we have this entire loop of the campground to ourselves. No immediate neighbors. Quiet and pleasant. Cream cheese Danish and whole-milk chocolate milk is how to start this day! Pleasant temp last night and this morning. Grey but no rain. A good day for exploring.
Ronnie just told me that Mohammed Ali died. He was a seminal figure of the 60s, Civil Rights and anti VietNam War. A voice, a presence I will miss. R.I.P.
Went in to town for some basic chores – a few groceries, propane tank, and laundry. In the laundromat now, obeying the “NO SMOKEING” [sic] sign. After all our recent wetness, there’s a little bit of a mildew smell in some stuff so it’s getting a good (color-safe) bleaching as it washes. Warm, humid, and grey but even the laundromat looks out over the water. Vistas everywhere. Gotta love those big laundromat machines you can put a zillion regular loads in.
My high school reunion is going on this weekend. The 50th. I can’t believe I’m that old. Hope they don’t reach critical mass with all those dense egos in such close proximity. Plutonium got nothin’ on those boys. Fissile material for sure. Somebody said we had about 190 graduates; I dunno how many are showing up for the festive weekend. Saw a few photos on Facebook from last night, only recognized a coupla people. Of course, I didn’t pay much attention to them when we were there so why should I recognize them 50 years later? Those fuckers look OLD. (grin)
Midafternoon now and our laundry is done, the sun is out (and kinda hot), and we’re back in camp having a late lunch – turkey and cheddar on sandwich rolls. Lotsa mustard on mine. Some chilled sliced apple to go with. All mildew is accounted for. And defeated. Hooray for that. I think I’ll have a refrigerated milky way after my sammich to celebrate. Still no other campers in our loop. Very pleasant.
Reading through the Cole/Hitch Western series of Robert B. Parker. You can sure tell when Parker died and the estate-chosen substitute writer took over. Not bad but not quite up to Parker’s standards. Same with his other series – Spenser, of course, and Jesse Stone come to mind.
I had a lovely hot shower and now we’re running Genny for an hour to charge all our electronics. Sailors call motoring “the iron genny” jokingly referring to the motor as a type of Genoa sail (called “genny” or “jenny”). Our little generator is a true iron Genny.
Soon we’ll have a little stirfry for dinner and we’ll slip into a quiet evening. Tonight, my high school reunion buddies will be living it up in coats and ties at the Metairie Country Club, probably wearing bespoke dinner jackets if I know my old school chums. Doctors and lawyers and alcohol. Oh my! At $170/couple the country club’ll be losing money on this soiree with liquor flowing like the current rain in Texas. At least nobody will die unless they drown in a puddle of scotch. These boys have spent a lifetime building up an immunity to iocane powder, errr, I mean alcohol. Alcohol poisoning is not even a remote possibility.
Dinner was tasty. Hostess zinger for dessert? You betcha! And darkness swallows the sky. Goodnight, Maryland.