Back to Denton

We slept in till 7:00. The windows in our room had double-blackout curtains. When we stepped outside, it was misting. I looked up the etymology of the word 'muggy' and it comes from the old Norse word 'mugga' meaning misty/drizzly.

Amanda and I went on another early morning bird expedition, driving Joy's car to the balconies canyonlands gazebo, a short 100ft hike from the highway. We didn't see anything new. Another birder came up soon after we parked, and she mentioned she was looking for a painted bunting.

Back at the house, we had breakfast, two slices of bread with butter, two eggs over easy, and sausage. Tom found the tape with his inspirational speech, and we gathered in the living room to watch. He was master chief sergeant in the air force.

The walls in their home were filled with chicken knick-knacks and portraits of Indians. Laurie liked chickens. Joy asked her brother if he liked Native Americans and Tom let out an exasperated sigh. Obviously he was collecting the commemorative plates and busts because he was a chief in the air force. I didn't see a book in the house and I felt self-conscious about reading my John McPhee while the others chatted.

00:40 (10.3MiB)

He went out to feed the donkey and horse across the way. Every time Tom went out to the garage/shop he snuck a cigarette from his hidden pack.

We got on the road and drove around Austin to avoid the traffic. On the way back to Denton we stopped to have a Wattaburger. They gave us three 32oz styrofoam cups with our order. We could have chosen apple chips instead of french fries as a side.

I selected the no-sugar lemonade, and it was still too sweet to drink without cutting it with water.

It started sprinkling as we approached Denton, and Mike said it had rained continuously since we left.

Joann made us margaritas and I checked in with the airline. Curtis and Mike were stationed at the TV watching soccer. Our flight leaves at 6am, and we'll have to get up in the middle of the night to catch it.

Online I found a poem by Robert Bly.

One Source of Bad Information

There’s a boy in you about three years old who hasn’t learned a thing for thirty Thousand Years. Sometimes it’s a girl.

The child had to make up its mind How to save you from death. He said things like: “Stay home. Avoid elevators. Eat only elk.”

You live with this child, but you don’t know it. You’re in the office, yes, but live with this boy At night. He’s uninformed, but he does want

To save your life. And he has. Because of this boy You survived a lot. He’s got six big ideas. Five don’t work. Right now he’s repeating them to you.

I showered and shaved and then Amanda announced they were going on a 2-mile walk, so I accompanied them and showered again.