|A bit of pedaling and geocache maintenance on the|
Dick & Willie Trail. Yeah, yeah, pipe down.
Ms. Brugger is gone for a long weekend with a bunch of rowdy women to the mountains of Virginia, leaving me lost, lonesome, and left to fend for myself. Those wretched women! But this was my regular weekend to go to Martinsville to look after Mum anyway, so I hit the road last night after work, grabbed a couple of caches en route, and arrived in the 'Ville just in time to go to dinner with Mum at Chopstix, a relatively new Asian establishment with an extensive, varied menu and decent sushi. Their food and service are commendable, but I don't recommend ordering one of their mixed drinks — I've given them two tries, one a Long Island Iced Tea, another a specialty drink called The Chopstix Stix, either of which — theoretically — should have knocked me on my ass, but which — in reality — struck me as little more than flavored water. Sadly, that's pretty much the case anywhere I've ordered a mixed drink in the past couple of years, so I've about sworn off anyone's but my own (with the notable exception of The Third Bay, in the 'Ville). A sad, sad state, I tell you.
Last night, after taking care of Mum's business, I managed a good spell of writing, much needed since I've got three stories either brewing or in the works, and a couple of deadlines I don't want to miss. And this morning, after helping out with some errands, I went out to the Dick & Willie Rail Trail (yeah, yeah, shut up), where one can borrow a bicycle for the exorbitant cost of absolutely nada, and took off pedaling to one of my geocaches ("The Quiet Earth," GC2D0WQ) that had gone missing and needed replacing. That done, with me about done in by the heat and humidity, I went and grabbed some chicken tenders from the nearby Hardee's and hied myself over to the shady woods at Lake Lanier for a little one-man picnic lunch. I did venture a ways down the little walking trail to find a bench, but I didn't fall in the water. Not this time, friends!
Then, it was back to Greensboro to spend a lonesome night at home without the bestest girlfriend in the world. On the way, I stopped for a baker's dozen geocaches in and around Summerfield, a few of which were pretty entertaining, particularly LY #312 (GC6CAN7), which would no doubt have had any uninitiated witnesses scratching their heads in bewilderment over what the old dude in the hat was doing shoving a pine branch into some metal tubing on a kids' playset.
I've got plenty more writing lined up for the evening, and to assuage my bitter loneliness, I figure I'll either watch Seven Samurai or The Brady Bunch, I haven't decided which.
Good night, Lucy.
|Lake Lanier looks about the same as it has all these years since I was a kid. Love the place, I do.|
Notice the conga line of turtles on the log in the lower right-hand corner of the pic.
|I found the cache here. Yep, that's me — the geocachevangelist.|