Flawed

I have no illusions about the "greatness" of this country. We've done great things, and we've done terrible things. There's never been a "perfect" time in our history, and there never will be; we are, after all, simply human. But I tell you, I want MY country back, and by MY country, I mean one that never heard of, much less approved of, Donald J. Fucking Trump. While it's true that he's more a symptom than the root cause of where we stand in the world, he — and behind him, his fascist puppeteers — are absolutely responsible for opening the floodgates and making it not just okay but laudable to be an utter piece of shit and willing to advertise that fact to the world at large.

In no way, shape, or form am I a perfect person. I realize that I'm flawed, sometimes beyond my own ability to believe. But through thick and thin, every single day, I carry with me the fact that I was raised to be a decent human being, and whatever my failings, I could never, not in a billion years, embrace the sheer awfulness of Donald J. Fucking Trump and every last soul in his administration. To my mind, supporting this regime and being a decent person are mutually incompatible.

And if that's a personal flaw of mine, then by god, I'm okay with it.

A Helluva Weekend

Given the dearth of nearby geocaches I've yet to find, it's always a treat to see new ones published that aren't that far away. A trio of new caches popped up on my map Friday — out in Floyd County, about an hour northwest of here. Since I couldn't get out there at the time, I got up early on Saturday morning, grabbed coffee and a danish at the nearby Valero Fas-Mart (their coffee does rock), and sallied forth onto the shadowy backroads. Long ago (the 1970s) and far away (about 20 miles), I attended Ferrum College, and I frequented these backroads, usually seeking the influence of what some might consider illicit substances. There was a commune called Travianas in this area that I used to visit frequently, and I read not all that long ago was still in existence. I don't remember exactly how we used to get there, but I was pretty close to the location, though.

My destination was a place called Riverstone Farm, a gorgeous place in the middle of nowhere, more or less, with a little store where you can buy their fresh produce, and it's all on the honor system. You weigh your produce, fill out your own sales slip, and drop your money in a slot. I picked up a couple of fabulous fresh tomatoes, which weighed over a pound, for $5. And I got first-to-find honors on all three of the new caches, each of which was nicely done. I so appreciate geocaches that lead me to such splendid locations that I would surely never have discovered otherwise.

On my way home, I stopped for lunch at the Railway Café in Bassett. A delicious fried chicken sandwich and a much-needed cold iced tea. Damn, it was hot out there.

The Riverstone Farm produce store

Trail along the Little River

A purty trail view

Last night, we saw the news of Donald Trump getting winged by a shooter. I've seen all sorts of conspiracy theories, lots of anger, and all too much true hate, enough to be totally overwhelming. I have a lot of things I can say on this issue, but not here and now. A bit later, I will.

This morning, again I rose early, grabbed coffee and a danish at the nearby Valero Fas-Mart, and hauled myself down to Burlington, NC, where I met friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker) for a day of caching in Hillsborough. As it has been lately, it was hot out there. Fuckin' hot. We both added quite a few to our total number of finds, including a bunch along the Eno Riverwalk. Another gorgeous location I enjoy visiting, and — as we usually do when in the area — we grabbed lunch at Hillsborough BBQ Company. Smoked chicken wings for me today, and damned good.

My favorite find of the day was probably the very photogenic black rat snake we ran across at Blackwood Farm Park.

I've no idea what level of madness our country and the world will reach this week, but I've no doubt it'll set a new fucking record.

A nice black rat snake we happened upon

Train trestle over the Eno River, viewed from the Riverwalk

Another view of the Eno