Liquor, Dancing
The carnival strip was definitely the hooverville of seaside resorts, but fun to see for exactly that reason. We did hit a local winery, where I tasted the homegrown while Da Chimpz drank the grape juice. Notice the carefully dosed
samples on my tray. The stuff wasn't bad, and I even bought myself a few bottle on my way out (suppressing my inner urge to boycott the pricks who successfully lobbied the Ohio legislature to restrict my ability to order wines through the mail -- so now I gotta load up on Big Ass Cab on my next road-trip to NYC, yes by car since the abominable TSA won't let you carry bottles onto a flight anymore).Despite the spotty cellphone service in Geneva, not-Switzerland, I did hear that Don Vito was hunkering down with the Fatones as Tropical Storm Fay poured buckets of water over the region. I understand storm preparation included the ancient rite of sausage-grilling, done outdoors, natch. Hearing this made me put on the Weather Channel to track the storm's course, but I couldn't stand watching Jim Cantore pining for the storm upgrade. But the only other thing on television was the insufferable Chi-Com propaganda airing on NBC. The Little League World Series was far more enthralling. Too bad for Italy -- those kids have great names.
Anyway, now we're back at Berea-Rose. I patched up the soap dish in the shower this afternoon, meaning it's off-limits until the compound can set. So I took a shower in the basement. In the two and a half years we've lived here no one has yet used the downstairs shower. Until today.
Every day an adventure.