In which it's Sunday at the ocean

It rained last night, several times; there was a fire next door, too.  My daily miles totaled 4.5 and my daily words 1,975.

I slept in this morning, by reason of having stayed up late for a number of reasons, including the above, work, and the upstairs neighbors rearranging their furniture for what I'm guessing must've been a square dance.

On this morning's walk, I met Bo*, owner of a lady and five cats, who graciously bestowed upon me some Vitamin Dog, so I'm all set there for a day or two.

I will note that this apartment houses the Scariest Washing Machine in Southern Maine.  In case anybody was looking for it.

I've posted some more pictures to the Archers Beach Diary.  The batteries in the little camera have died, so I'll be switching over to the big camera until I have new batteries.

The rest of today will be involved with that writing thing, and, yanno, another walk.

Tomorrow, I need to walk up to the top of the hill and get Rite Aide to give me a flu shot.  Also, I need to make dinner reservations for Tuesday.

And write.  This being a working vacation.

______

*This is not a picture of Bo, because by the time I met him and his lady, the camera had died, but it is a picture of what Bo looks like.

Breaking for lunch

So, I've written some, and taken an evening walk to shake up the brain cells.  I think I'll have lunch now, rather than trying to remember to interrupt myself again, in an hour.

Miles on the day thus far:  5.  That's pretty good.  It's easier to walk in town.  I may have said that before.

Speaking of walking, and of cameras that run out of batteries at inopportune moments. . .

This morning, besides depriving me of a picture of Bo, who was certainly the single most photogenic thing I've seen in town so far, I lost the opportunity of. . .

A youngish, but no longer young woman, with longish and bedraggled too-blonde hair, wearing a pink OOB sweatshirt and shorts.  She's at the sad beginning of a day following a bitter night, and she's sitting on the  concrete ledge of a building at the end of a parking lot, huddled over her cigarette like it's her last ray of hope.  Next to her on the wall of the building is a sign:  Dead End 

. . .

On this evening's walk, camera-less (Yes, yes, I could have taken the big camera, but it's...big, and I can't hold it steady anymore.  The little camera has shake control.), I passed a tree that has woven its roots in and threw through a stone wall that's keeping a small hill from sliding across the sidewalk.  I'm going to have to walk that way again, with a camera; it was Absolutely Amazing.

...and with that, I'm getting that sandwich, and then I'm getting back to work.

I hope everybody has a good evening.