Myrtle Beach--the fun starts now

So I'm lying on the beach in South Carolina hoping my nose doesn't dry out and my arthritis isn't too obvious when someone recognizes me. "Aren't you Creak?" he says. And I say, "Yes." And then the fun started. They recently began the lottery in South Carolina, over how many Evangelical dead bodies I will never be able to count, and so there's a collective breath-holding exercise going on to see if any of the lottery money will actually go to education. South Carolina spends more than Mississippi on education. That's the polite way to describe the state of learning. In Myrtle Beach a book about gay bashing caused such a stir that it was banned from the libraries. There is no gay section at the local Barnes & Noble store. Anyway, back to the fun on the beach with my new friend who knew me but who I didn't know. First the beach at Myrtle Beach is incredible. Keep Martha's Vineyard with its cold water and rocky coast line, the beach here is broad, soft sand and the water, now anyway, must be 80 degrees, with no jellyfish like you get in Maryland and Virginia when the water gets this hot. And, there's no alcohol allowed on the beach. That has its plusses and minuses, but since I don't drink it's not a radar screen item.

So back to the fun.

We lay on the beach with his head on my belly and my tail wagging every once in a while to shoo a fly. Didn't say a word. For about an hour. Then we walked down the beach socializing with the friendly people, walked back to where we started, and then walked our separate ways. The energy was nuclear. Might go to the stock car races when the sun goes down.