May 22, 2017. Day Seventeen - Pretty Much Like the Sixteen Which Preceded It.

May 22, 2017.  Day Seventeen - Pretty Much Like the Sixteen Which Preceded It.  "What do you do on your trips?"  That is a common question from friends and colleagues.  They suspect, I suspect, that we go from historic monument to museum to other interesting sights in the areas where we camp. Wrong.  We loaf, eat and relax.  We try to do each in equal parts so we stay balanced, balance being the key to a life well lived.  Oh, I throw in a little work by connecting to my desktop at the office.  I read emails and respond to them.  We both do a little pleasure reading, but not compulsively.  We try to stay up on national news by either watching one of the network offerings or viewing updates on Internet news apps.

We try to get a modest amount of exercise, usually walking, biking or both.  Today, it was a one-hour bike ride along the trails in the park.  I aired up the bike tires and cooked hash brown potatoes for dinner.  Annie made a romaine salad and we munched on some salty crispies.  I have not been nutrition-minded - Annie has - she who baked broccoli in cookies when the girls were young.  I don't think the girls have forgiven her that iron-willed force-feeding of vegetables.  I know I haven't. Betrayal and food don't mix.

We nod and howdy to other campers.  Sometimes, we engage with them and learn where they live, where they are going and other factoids soon forgotten.  Before dinner tonight, an "elderly" lady sauntered across the road to look at Harvey.  Harvey is the size of motorhome she admires.  She and her son are traveling in a Class C (bed over the cab) from Chicago to visit another son who resides in western Wisconsin.  The other son moved to Wisconsin from Florida.  His mother said, "It is so cold here and Florida is so warm.  I don't know why he did that - yes, I do.  He fell in love."  I had the impression that mom didn't necessarily approve of the son's new love interest.  Not long into the conversation, I decided she was just shopping and wasn't a potential buyer of Harvey.  Fiddle.

Most of today's pictures are self-explanatory.  You'll note that we made it back to the White Gull Inn for breakfast.  Yes, I had another massive serving of Door County Cherry Stuffed French Toast.  This time, however, I ate half there and made breakfast yesterday of the second half.  I watch Annie and try to emulate her good habits . . . up to a point.  There's no sense in going overboard.

We also made it to the Soup Bar.  The soup was good and the ambiance about what you'd hope for, a tiny place, maybe 4-500 square feet, two or three tables and big metal pots warming on a gas stove. I light-heartedly referred to the owner as the Soup Nazi, the character in the Seinfeld TV series.  He is actually Polish and very personable - nothing like the Soup Nazi.  It is the kind of place you'd hope to find in a village of 288 residents, Ephraim, WI.

The birders, the warblers and the lake flies are still here.  And, yes, the solitary goose is still here, too. I hope he leaves before we do.  I'll feel better about him if that happens.  Otherwise, I will have to leave holding to the belief that his new flight feathers will come in and he will find another mate.  I'll keep you informed.  I know you care, too.

Goodnight.