Last night’s low was fifty-nine degrees. Still closer to Fidel than to Jeb.
We’ve been at this KOA for three nights. Not very good luck with neighbors. We have reservations for the KOA fifty miles up the road at Fiesta Key. Thought we’d try that one, but someone recommended we look at a different place first. We drove down the highway from mile marker 20 to mile marker 14, and found the Blue Water Key RV Resort. Now this is very nice (pictures). We called and cancelled our reservations at Fiesta Key. These are all privately owned lots that the park will rent out while the owners aren’t here. We have encountered parks with length restrictions before, but this is the first one we’ve stayed at that has a minimum length: twenty-six feet. Only big motorhomes. Only full hookups. Eighty sites. Wide lots. Waterfront sites. Canal sites. Tiki huts. Private docks. Lots of rules, but they’re all about being considerate of the park and considerate of your neighbors. Rules we can live with. No monthly rates. If you want to stay here a month, it costs three thousand dollars. It reminds us of the condos at Wailea on
We put the pets out on leashes and let them hang out outside for a while. The cat loves it. He rolls around in the dirt, on the asphalt, in the grass. Annie is such a mommy’s dog, she can’t stand to be anywhere without Judy. If Judy is not there, the only place Annie wants to be is on the back of the couch, watching for Mom’s return. Rags is content to stretch and roll around outside for hours, until he has to get back inside to the cat box. We had left the door to the motorhome open. Annie was still on her leash, but on the back of the couch, inside. Rags was inside as well, but with his front end inside the cat box, straining against the leash to get his rear-end into the cat box as well. I think it was good that I noticed this and unhooked him.
We brothers had a conversation a while back, wondering if the Banks power packs were available yet for the Chevy V-10. A new Endeavor parked next to us, with a Banks Power sticker on the side, right above the V-10 emblem. I guess they’re ready.
Fifty years of Pepsi! After fifty years of drinking Pepsi, I’ve finally burned out. Years ago I had to switch away from the sugar of regular Pepsi and adapt to diet Pepsi. It wasn’t easy, but I wanted my Pepsi, so I persevered. Several weeks ago, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stand the thought of any more nutra-death aftertaste. Pepsi may be out of my diet for good. I miss it. I don’t want it, but I still miss it. I haven’t figured out what to replace it with yet. Something with no sugar and no artificial-sweetener-after-taste.
Saw palm warblers and a merlin. I’m having trouble figuring some of the birds out, but I describe them to Judy and she looks them up and tells me what they are. Together, we make a pretty good birder.
Six miles on the motorhome. Two new birds. Motorhome moving. Private dock sitting. Club sandwich for lunch. Lobster for dinner. Not a bad day.
I think we’ll do it again tomorrow.
