Flights of Fancy

   It didn't take long to recover from our relaxed midnight ride on the Interstate - that's what drugs are for.  Here's what we've done the last few days... 

Slept with a remarkable couple who would rather fly than drive, and have the technology to back it up.

Learned that haters are grammatically challenged.

Coped badly with the intrusion of a correctional facility for vending machines in the very spot, damn them all, where Seb and I camped last year. The rest stop is no-longer-closed-for-repair. They paved Paradise and put up a prison lot.

Coped better with the revisiting of our camp site in Aguila, but got awful tired...

Hated the cartoon Roadrunner. But, confronted by the unstirring sight of the real thing, I must add ornithology to my list of unfathomable-to-me hobbies,  top of which are fishing, mechanical twiddling with gas-propelled objects, and anything to do with horses. That smug, self-satisfied, perkily-irritating, sadistic cartoon roadrunner is starting to look a little better - maybe we're cousins.

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Nearly bought "The Official Defense Language Institute Video Course" (blue book) but I lent my VCR and eight-track player to Neil Sedaka and he hasn't given them back - probably still mad that I wouldn't do a "Breaking Up is Hard to Do" duet with him. Probably...

Hung out with Nancy, who has touched Billy Crystal and Danny DeVito in special ways (massage therapy, sickos). I continue to wear the Bike Tech shirt, even though I need help opening the zipper on our tent. Wearing the mask...

And lastly, saw our first memorial to poor, helpless, hapless pioneers...

And its counterpoint. Later y'all.