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Back from beach--sigh. Wish I could live there. Maybe someday.
This was the first week of summer--straight from the last week of winter. Spring is often short here, but this year was non-existent, in terms of temperature, at least. Last time I was there it was too cold and windy to kayak (even in my Christmas present Frog Togs--yes, wimps r us). This time it was warm enough to paddle without a teeshirt, and the water almost warm enough to swim (but that has to be very warm indeed for me). The bugs are out and biting, also getting bitten by many purple martins and unknown swifts or swallows, and the egrets are preening and posing in the trees. My sister's dog, an elderly Schnauzer, likes to ride in the boat with her husband, but their other dog is too big and sits sadly on the porch. My husband was there to keep her company this time, so she wasn't too sad.
We were early for the plane taking Bill back to Chicago (sigh, but I'll see him in a couple of weeks and hopefully Chicago will be warmer by then, too) so being in Myrtle Beach (something I do only for airplanes) we killed the time at Jurassic Miniature Golf, which has almost life-sized Triceratops made of plaster and a T Rex in a huge cage, moving its head and growling. And the water flowing through all sorts of little falls, etc., seems to have blue food coloring. Still it was fun to play for the first time in about forty years (but maybe not for another forty). However, Bill had played bocce ball with us at the beach and I owed him.
Karma was instant. On the way home I stopped to buy wine and there was a Scottish guy who is a distiller for single malt Scotch (Isle of Jura) giving samples and talking about his product (Superstition, pretty good 16-year old). I was pleased. I love very peaty, rich, complicated tastes, but generally don't want to spend the money to buy a whole bottle of Laphroaig at $60 or $70. New thought: tour of distilleries on Islay and Jura, if I ever get to that part of the world again. Hopefully Bill will drive or they'll have a bus. I've been lucky in Napa and Sonoma to have someone driving so I could taste--though I guess real tasters don't actually drink but spit it out. To me it seems some of the taste, at least in Scotch, happens in the throat--but it can work well with teeny-tiny tastes. Still, I wouldn't want to trying driving on the right after seven or eight distilleries.
Thanks again to many of you for all the very helpful suggestions about writing.
This was the first week of summer--straight from the last week of winter. Spring is often short here, but this year was non-existent, in terms of temperature, at least. Last time I was there it was too cold and windy to kayak (even in my Christmas present Frog Togs--yes, wimps r us). This time it was warm enough to paddle without a teeshirt, and the water almost warm enough to swim (but that has to be very warm indeed for me). The bugs are out and biting, also getting bitten by many purple martins and unknown swifts or swallows, and the egrets are preening and posing in the trees. My sister's dog, an elderly Schnauzer, likes to ride in the boat with her husband, but their other dog is too big and sits sadly on the porch. My husband was there to keep her company this time, so she wasn't too sad.
We were early for the plane taking Bill back to Chicago (sigh, but I'll see him in a couple of weeks and hopefully Chicago will be warmer by then, too) so being in Myrtle Beach (something I do only for airplanes) we killed the time at Jurassic Miniature Golf, which has almost life-sized Triceratops made of plaster and a T Rex in a huge cage, moving its head and growling. And the water flowing through all sorts of little falls, etc., seems to have blue food coloring. Still it was fun to play for the first time in about forty years (but maybe not for another forty). However, Bill had played bocce ball with us at the beach and I owed him.
Karma was instant. On the way home I stopped to buy wine and there was a Scottish guy who is a distiller for single malt Scotch (Isle of Jura) giving samples and talking about his product (Superstition, pretty good 16-year old). I was pleased. I love very peaty, rich, complicated tastes, but generally don't want to spend the money to buy a whole bottle of Laphroaig at $60 or $70. New thought: tour of distilleries on Islay and Jura, if I ever get to that part of the world again. Hopefully Bill will drive or they'll have a bus. I've been lucky in Napa and Sonoma to have someone driving so I could taste--though I guess real tasters don't actually drink but spit it out. To me it seems some of the taste, at least in Scotch, happens in the throat--but it can work well with teeny-tiny tastes. Still, I wouldn't want to trying driving on the right after seven or eight distilleries.
Thanks again to many of you for all the very helpful suggestions about writing.
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