Back to the Brazos. This river quiets my soul. I am glad to be back, on its bank, en los brazos del Río de Brazos. I like that. I like knowing that the Brazos means the arms and that being here, in this bend in the Brazos River means that I am in the arms of the arms. No safer place, no more secure place, double enfolded. We picked a great weekend to be away from the River. A group of air boaters 80+ I'm told took to this stretch of the river this weekend and wrecked havoc, aurally, and otherwise. Upon arrival at mi casa diminuta al lado del río I saw that EK and friend had arrived and parked their Wanderlodge by fishhook George’s pen. EK's current friend was, well, uh, rough. Apparently deaf, since she shouted constantly, blessed with that Lauren Hutten look, you know, a gap between her teeth, after that we shift to contrast rather than comparison. The quick version would be that her photo appears next to the word "hick" in the dictionary, and no additional info is needed. Max and I, tired from a drive in from Houston played a game of Scrabble and then lights out around 10pm. The Wanderlust, or lodge or whatever, remained however a hive of activity. EK, hick and their four dogs managed to find the only radio station you can get in the Littlefield bend of the Brazos, 95.9, COUNTRY, and well, I told you she was deaf...... LOUD, very LOUD. Add to that that the beer cooler was in an outside compartment, and that she apparently felt that the door needed a SLAM to assure it was properly closed, and that one or more of the dogs needed out every five minutes or so, and that said dog/s required LOUD calling, multiple LOUD calling, to coax them back into the trailer, and add to that her apparent new affection for RFW's dog F. George, and well, it was a while before the Corona twins passed out. Fortunately one regained consciousness long enough to kill the Country tunes. And..... since revenge is a meal best served cold, I waited until this morning to tune my satellite receiver to the "METAL" music channel to return the favor. I turned the TV up all the way as Chainsaw your Mother's Paranoia Metallically or something like that Crashed, banged, and screeched for the forty-five minutes it took us to get ready to leave. Unfortunately, heh, heh, heh, my trailer door developed a sudden latching deficiency and it took numerous slams to get it to latch. Unfortunately, heh, heh, heh, I was very forgetful and had to make several trips back to the trailer to get things I forgot as we loaded. Between slamming the trailer door and the new development in my Suburban that required slamming the doors several times to get them to latch, we departed. RFW called later this morning to apologize for the Wanderlodge invasion. I just chuckled and asked him if they slept okay. Apparently they got up fairly early and left. Heh, heh, heh!

And, thanks to the miracle of Celexa, I never got angry. This was just a reckoning, a balancing up if you will. No enmity, no animosity, no gritting teeth, stomping feet, just cool TCB (takin' care of bizness.)