Friday, September 29, 2023.

Hello from Virginia.  State Motto:  The land of the eternally damp bath towel.  Yes, that means it be humid here.

Late Update:

The two new DVD players are installed and working just fine.  The old HUGE DVD player and the 16-button switch box are removed and stored for any later audio genius rig owner to reinstall if they wish.

Laundry was done, hair was cut.  A tad bit shorter than I wanted but it looks good (to me) and it will soon grow back to the longer, shaggier style Ms. Shawn prefers. 

Shawn Med Update:  She’s fine.  No remedial actions required.  Happy news.

I’m still at the Hobo Palace with brother Kim.  Shawn is still up in Burke, VA with her brother.  The plan is for us to meet tomorrow in Occcquaaneinnn, VA at the Open House Party at the marina owned by a close friend of my brothers.  By my familial linkage to them I was able to wrangle an invite.  Then, if it is amenable to him we will stay overnight in the marina parking lot and decide what to do for a couple of days.  And then, head west!

My fun meter is so pegged it bent the needle and I want to go home.  How badly you might ask?  As in the old CW song, I reply.  (Cue the music) “I wanna go home . . . I wanna go home . . . oh how I wannnna go home…”

Generator update:  The ^%$#& has run perfectly the whole time I’ve been here at the HP.  Dunno what will happen tomorrow when I shake it up on the road to Occaaquanne, VA.  Standby for a later screed on the subject.

Yesterday, Kim and I visited George Washington’s Birthplace.  It’s just a few miles down the road.  Seriously.  George really did sleep there.

It is only “sorta” real.  The location is correct, but all the buildings were constructed back in the 1930’s in an effort “to honor” him by building “the type of house he should have been born in.”  So, it’s fake, but well meaning, and impressively fake.  It was (is) a huge farm with a huge (for the time) imposing brick house and a dozen or so out buildings.  It seems young Goerge was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.  No wonder he became President!  My, my, how things never seem to change.

BTW:  I’m not specifically speaking of you-know-who.  The Kennedy’s were of the same ilk.  It’s the Golden Rule.  He who has the gold, rules.

OK, the ducks are at the end of the pier wanting their breakfast so I guess I shall go toss them some bird seed.  It seems bread is bad for ducks.  Who knew?!  I didn’t.  I used to take my kids to feed the ducks stale bread all the time.  Sorry ducks.  RIP.

Later,

Rusty Pistons