Another Houdini hound incident
Keep the mode local. That means having coffee and buns at the picnic table. No sprint to the city for a sit down brunch. Somehow, I doubt that a restaurant would tolerate my stringing a dipole across the table while testing the travel radio gear, so the decision to do things in camp is logical.
The dog joined us in the tent during the night. I don’t know why, or at what hour, but the cold nose pressed against mine did interrupt my REM sleep. Come dawn, we kicked him out.
Some family visiting during the afternoon set the pace for the day. Any musical interlude would wait for tomorrow. Of course, I’m not good at long visits, so we headed down to St. Peter’s to check out the ice cream bar (to do again, soon) and the small bookstore.
Supper at Rick’s was up to standards (both his and ours). I wonder if the village council recognizes that his business is probably responsible for the better part of tourist traffic during the summer.
We’ve developed a personal approach to the search for our next home – if we see a house we like, then stopping and asking for information on the builder and model is fair practice. Surprisingly, people don’t mind (so far). Come on in, take some pictures, verify the sump pump. Nothing too eccentric when strangers stop by. At one point, the proprietor wondered if that had been a black fox racing by the window.
Nope. Our Houdini hound figured out how to ditch the shoulder harness and the seat belt before bolting for freedom. Definite conversation gambit.
