According to Merriam-Webster.com, online dictionary, there are 14 entries for the word dump. Some are verbs and some are nouns. We practiced both parts of speech today. Every 4 days or so, if you are a self contained recreational vehicle of some sort (running water), you need to visit a dump station to dump your stuff. You have two kinds of stuff to dump. First there is the stuff that is called gray water. Everything not going down the toilet is gray water. We have two gray water tanks. One for the kitchen stuff and one for the bathroom stuff (sink and shower). The other stuff goes to the black tank; everything that goes down the toilet. There are actually sensors that will let you know how full these holding tanks are. Sometimes a sensor, say in the black tank, won't read correctly and says that you are empty when in reality you can tell from the worn marks on the toilet seat and the lack of toilet paper on the roll that the sensor must not be sensing (covered with shit) as it should. The gray tank sensors on the other hand are much more reliable...hmmmm. Our campground does not have a "dump station," which many do, but the city of Frisco has one available at their public works site. And for $5 your water, whatever the color, becomes theirs. With any luck at all on the way to the dump station, the sloshing that must take place in the tanks, as you meander down the road, tends to self clean. And the next time you check the level of the tanks, you hope the sensor is sensing once again. We were able to stow things away in the trailer, go to the DS, dump, come back, and set up again in one hour...this just shows that we know our shit. No pictures...this time (that is a threat).
With the other 15 hours of our day, we headed over to the Farmer's Market in Dillon and got two loaves of fresh bread (cranberry/walnut and multi-grain), some smoked salmon, some corn, potatoes, and peaches.
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| This was the last one of the season, lucky us. |
After shopping up an appetite, we swung around the corner to the Arapahoe Cafe for lunch. It was started by the founders of Dillon and is an historic building. It was moved from where it would have been under Lake Dillon to a spot by Lake Dillon.
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The photographer did not capture the historic essence
of the Arapahoe Cafe (bad photographer). In front is an
outdoor eating courtyard surrounded by window boxes
of flowers, which is also hard to see. So this blogger should
have left this photo out or taken one out (pretend you
never saw this photo). |
I later dusted off my fishing gear and wet a line on the Blue River (it is everything our Blue River is not in Kansas City). I had one bite and actually saw the fish go for it, but remember, like motorcycling, it is not about the destination, it is about the journey...but it would have been way more enjoyable if I had actually landed a fish or two.
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| Angler wannabe at work. |
We left the boys at home to have the day off after yesterday's hike. Upon our arrival we were greeted by eager faces (do dogs have faces?...a rhetorical question my dad always asked).
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"Yes mommy wuvs her good boys. She
missy wissy'd you today."
It goes on, but that is all I can take.
So as to not get soft on us and after a sweet rawhide chew, they had to pound the pavement around the campground as an almost full moon rose over the mountains (no photo,
maybe tomorrow).
I leave you with a photo and a thought...actually a quote from the back of a t-shirt a waitress wore where we ate lunch today... "You can't drink all day, unless you start in the morning." Could that be a rhetorical statement? |
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This mountain photo one more time as seen through
our picture window...pun intended. The dreary weather
is behind us for now, but could it be an early winter. |
My Zen from the road: There is nothing like coming home to a wet nose and a waggy tail. I can only assume it is the same feeling with your own children, minus the wet noses and waggy butts. Caring for someone is a bonus, so is letting someone care for you.
Cribbage Win Count: Miki - 1 Wallie - 2
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