03 June 2018

Hella hot!

So we were supposed to go down to Galveston Island for a few days on the beach after the Red Sox game, but it was just too damned hot.  Yes, too hot for the beach.  Welcome to Texas, my friends. 

I had seen this meme before, and always thought "oh please, lots of places are hot ... what's so special about Texas?"  And then we lived in Texas.  It's not hot.  It's hell.  No ... wait ... it's hell wrapped in a wet towel.

So you know what we did? We got our freetail on and cancelled our plan to go to Galveston.  Crazy, right?  This is what retirement is all about - no more "have to" -- only "want to".  And we didn't "want to" be in Texas anymore, so we got all crazy and headed west toward the mountains instead!

(Side note:  you have no idea how hard this living on the edge thing is for an obsessive planner like me.  Thank goodness Doug is more experienced at retirement and can coach me through the "ohmygodwedidn'tplanitthisway" panic attacks.)

We spent last night back "home" at the San Antonio KOA (where the humans enjoyed the shade, Sunday belly flopped in the pond, and Finn treed a few squirrels).  Today, we started our journey west, stopping for the night at Fort Stockton RV Park, where it is still hella hot, but not quite as humid.