Beach Trip

It’s time to head to the beach.  The heat around here has been like 12 yards of hell so I might as well go where there’s strings of seagulls in flight, sand, salt water and briny air to make the heat more bearable.

I’ve loaded up the PT Cruiser and my furkid, Sophie, will ride shotgun.

This visit, one of many I’ve taken of late, will not be to help my friend who was recovering from carotid artery surgery but to have sheer fun.  My itinerary will include renting a jet ski and terrorizing the sea life, shopping at Broadway On The Beach, enjoying a night out at the Carolina Comedy Club, pigging out on seafood and homemade peach ice cream and ogling the hunky menfolk with killer tans who smell of coconut oil.

My friend’s son has planned a pool party replete with burgers and dogs and all the fixin’s.  Admittedly a pool is not the same as swimming in the ocean.  What it lacks in excitement, it more than makes up for by not having scary critters trying to bite you.  Sophie has her own doggie floatie to join in on the fun!

I’ve already purchased tickets to see the Myrtle Beach Pelicans, a Chicago Cubs farm team, play the Carolina Mudcats.  I’m going to get in big trouble in the stadium rooting for the Mudcats because they are one of the minor league farm teams for the Atlanta Braves.  Our seats are in the field box smack dab behind home plate.  How sweet is that?

Proof is going to look after the place while I’m gone.  I’ve let the cops know to keep an eye on him. 

See ya soon.  Take care everyone!

Hooray For The Red, White And Blue

Today is America’s 238th birthday.  In my neck of the woods the weather is going to be sunny with low humidity.  Last night we were getting rain from Hurricane Arthur, but this morning the sun came up with the promise of glorious weather to celebrate our independence.

Our fellow countrymen in Murrieta, CA rose up last week to turn away busloads of illegal immigrants that were slated to be dumped there by federal authorities.  It was reminiscent of that day on Manhattan Island when General George Washington and his weary troops marched toward the Battery to oversee the evacuation of Loyalists.  As the Redcoats and their sympathizers rowed out to the ships that would take them away, an American sailor clambered up the flagpole atop Fort George and pulled down the Royal Ensign and replaced it with the Stars and Stripes.  Moments later the wind caught it and the soldiers cheered as the American flag once again flew overhead.

We are a great nation.  The fact that a huge number of Democrats and independents have now come to realize that The World’s Most Dangerous Community Organizer is the worst president since World War II—a span of 70 years—and the prairie fire of rebellion against the flood of moochers crossing the border illegally is reaching a fevered pitch heartens me.

So Casa de Curmudgeon is plowing ahead with its annual Fourth of July Block Party.  The deck is appropriately decorated for the occasion.  The fireworks were purchased weeks ago and I finally installed outdoor speakers.  My guests will be able to enjoy tunes as I dip into the old jukebox for some summer gold tunes.

I made a run to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients for the Hemingway Hamburger.  A guy on the radio was talking about it the other day on my way into work.  I looked up the recipe and I’m pretty jazzed about making them for my guests.  We’ll also enjoy the savory delights of lobster tails and shrimp on the barbie along with all the obligatory accoutrements.  For dessert there will be blueberry and apple pies and homemade peach ice cream hand-churned on my old White Mountain ice cream freezer.

I hope everyone has a happy, healthy and safe Fourth.  God bless America and God bless all three of my faithful readers.