Monday, January 19, 2009

On day seven we stopped to visit our niece Breezy and her family. Jordan is stationed at Camp Le Jeune. They and their two kids, Valerie and Colby are doing well. It took me nearly an hour to get the kids and the dog all worked up but I was eventually sucessful whereupon we left. I'm sure they got them all settled down again; they're a young couple.

Coming down Rte 17 was a little depressing. They are a lot more serious about billboards and signage than up north and one after another offering the services of a bail bondsman, $250 dentures, gun sales, Going Out of Business sales or calling our attention to attend church services or drop in at a 'Gentleman's Club' was a little overwhelming.

Heading south we thought we'd surely encounter 60 degrees; it was 53 when we left Norfolk this morning but it only got to 59 before dropping several degrees. Tonight Elaine and I walked for a couple of miles on a deserted beach that went on forever here on Tybee Island. I'm not a beach fan myself but between the vast salt marshes we passed on the way to the island, and which we'll visit again tomorrow, and this beach in front of our motel, Elaine is very happy. It couldn't have been more timely either. She was getting a little difficult.

There was a time (actually there was never a time when it was otherwise) when her reminders that I was driving too fast were incessant. They were nearly always lovingly given but incessant is incessant regardless of how often I'm called Sweetie Pie. This trip was different though. I decided before leaving that I would pursue a leisurely course and discovered, to my astonishment, before even leaving Maine, that she thought I was driving too slow. "Not in a hurry are we?" she asked rhetorically. And driving down to NYC from Vermont, "Remember we have to be back by March 1." That sort of thing. When I finally gave in and picked up the pace a little I was Sweetie Pie again and getting reined in. As we travelled further south the acceptable window narrowed from several miles per hour over or under the limit to nothing either side of exactly what was what was posted. By the time we got here I was walking a thin line. Now though, with sand in sight on one side and salt marshes on the other she is a changed woman. I can do no wrong. I expect things will go very smoothly from here on out with sand and sun on the horizon.

Carmilla is sleeping in the room with us again although she continues to grow more familiar with me and, in that sense, is on thin ice.

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