August, August…parting is such sweet bliss. Having babysat The Skol Fine Art Gallery for the better part of Lovely Ouray's short, but oh-so-sweet summer, and this while RV friends are cavorting about North America like a bunch of newborn colts, I become mindful of the irony of my last day of work falling on Labor Day.
But don't weep for little ole me. No. Rather, weep for those who are off today but must return to treadmills tomorrow, the day after—month in-month out—lo, decades? God bless 'em, our children and grandchildren will forever shoulder the WWII anomaly/burden of the Boomer Bulge—our Social Security checks, our bottomless binge on extortionate prescription drugs that we're constantly brainwashed to "ask out doctor about," drugs that require other drugs to control adverse side effects, things like dying and constipation. And don't give me that "I've earned it, by Gawd." crap. Do the math; one bypass surgery puts your account in a sea of red ink forever. This is what happens when men get sent off to war. If they are lucky enough to come home alive and able, they trade war for love. The consequent baby boom make "entitlements" look like a Pyramid Scheme. But that's a digression to another blog post; Let's see, where was I...
Today there is a tingle of excitement shivering my spine and synapses; it's almost as pronounced as it was in the weeks and days preceding our very first RV departure. This is a good sign... that I haven't fallen out of love with the RV Dream, that the "relationship" still has a pulse. I liken it to growing (growing, as in "progressing, maturing…flourishing") older, wiser, and deeper in love with one's soulmate, that lottery-luck one shot of good fortune that keeps you interested enough to hang around, just to see how it ends. Why is there still "Life and Lust" on the open road after all these fifteen years? I will get to that next time, right here on the BCB.
|The Olden Days, Camping on weekends and holidays only...|
|Our third RV adventure|