August 2nd, 2004.

Despite fatigue, Heather and I went a’wanderin yesterday. We looked at Battleships and beaches and snakes and lizards. We played the gig which wasn’t so hot, but we watched the moonlight off the ocean, which was.

So, we’re in Wilmington. I was sure that the reason Heather kept thinking the name was familiar was because of Wilmington, Deleware. Unfortunately, no. The name is familiar because whenever there’s a hurricane, Wilmington is the little prong that it hits first.

So, we’re laying up at a new friends’ house – Deanne has wondrous dogs that sneeze on command and a huge television which has been used exclusively to watch the Weather Channel since we’ve been here. We watch suspiciously as the attractive weather woman describes the swirling winds off the coast of South Carolina. She show’s the projected path of the storm, and there’s a big orange arrow obliterating Cape Fear on the map. Sigh. Alex is coming, and Alex is expected to be a hurricane within 24 hours.

Decamping in WIlmington in favour of Dee-Camping.
Decamping in WIlmington in favour of Dee-Camping.
Two signs that we're in the REAL South - we're just down far enough to have palm trees and Spanish moss. I'm so happy when we travel far enough that I can point to something and say "Heather! Look! We don't have those at home!"
Two signs that we’re in the REAL South – we’re just down far enough to have palm trees and Spanish moss. I’m so happy when we travel far enough that I can point to something and say “Heather! Look! We don’t have those at home!”

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