1/26

   We left town to take a reprieve from Cheeto The Mad Hatter, but as if unknowingly tracking around dog poop on your shoe sole, no matter where you go the stench remains.  Our constitutional democracy is in jeopardy as never before so try as we might, the angst prevails. The Kindles we brought  for novels morphed into daily NYT, W.Post news posts; the I-Phone for phone calls morphed into incessant CNN, etc., and Facebook Cheeto smut sources.  So the beat goes on and we can't escape...even in Alabama.
   We've done Gulf Shores.  Two days under an umbrella on the beach are the highlight.  Food has been mediocre and the trailer park somewhat lacking, Oh well...you live and learn.
   Today, we'll do the Nature Center and the super long pier folks rave about.  Tomorrow we'll shove off.  Two final truisms:  1) This trip proved to be a successful "shake-down cruise" on the  heels (pun intended) of Ann's 3-bone ankle break in Yellowstone, 6/16.  2) once again it affirmed the value of our relationship. This AM we acknowledged that we'd be 79 when Cheeto's reign was done. Chortling, we both agreed that if one of us died beforehand the other, the one left would  be very pissed.
   Later....