November 2, 2016

The road wasn't flooded this morning when I left for the post office and grocery store. When I picked up my package, it was marked "flood." USPS arrived at the beach house shortly after I returned. The employee put two packages by the garage door. I poked my head out of BOB and said hello. I asked her if she ever alters her delivery schedule to accommodate the Murderkill River tide. She said only if she hasn't been able to get down the road for a week. Then she asked if I wanted the mail. I said yes. If I had said no, would she have put it in the box or kept it another day?

​My cousin Camilla and her husband Eugene arrived here before noon. I gave them a tour of BOB. Eugene asked so many questions that he could either sell BOB or operate him without further instruction. Eugene loves the road, but Camilla doesn't. I told her that she could sit in the dinette and write which would allow her to ignore the "road." I also told her that the "road" is a lot more interesting west of 100 degrees longitude.

Eugene left us to continue to Maryland to see a friend with a boat. I welcomed him to return to spend the night, but he said he'd promised his friend a night of endless drinking. He said he'd see us for coffee in the morning. Camilla and I adjourned to a luncheon of roasted pepper and tomato soup, arugula salad, and assorted cheese and crackers. I asked her if she'd like some wine, too. She said yes. During lunch, we had twenty simultaneous conversations – some of which we finished and others of which we didn't. After lunch, I ran the dishwasher, and we went for a walk on the beach. The wine made Camilla feel spinny – she consumed it a relatively empty stomach and in a sleep-deprived state – so she adjourned for a nap.

My female dog Addison has all the scruffy cuteness of a stray – a la Benji. Like me, she hasn't had a haircut in three months. Unlike me, she looks adorable. She has curlier and oiler hair than her brother, a greater affinity for dirt, and a propensity to grow dingleberries. (Isn’t she lovely?) Jasper is perhaps the most handsome Westie I have ever seen. He is well-proportioned with straight hair that looks good at any length. On Friday, I'm taking them to Petco in Rehoboth Beach to have them groomed. They will look like puppies once again and my care of them will be easier, but it always makes me a little sad to lose my scruffy girl and pretty long-haired boy.

Yesterday, I sent a FaceBook message about my Google Calendar Election Day formula to a former colleague who shares my Excel geekiness. She reacted with glee, then asked if I was "still" with Trump. She is a diehard Carson supporter who shifted to Trump as the party's candidate. What I told her in the summer of 2015 is that I liked what Trump was doing to stir the pot of 400 candidates for the party’s nomination. To me, he was a potential weed-killer. To me, he was never going to be President. My friend asked who I voted for (because yesterday was Google Election Day), and I said that I had voted against Trump but that I had supported the party down-ticket.

For selfish reasons, I wish Antonin Scalia hadn't died this spring. Ruth Bader Ginsburg lost her friend, but I hope that if it were up to her she'd choose a new colleague who similarly disagreed with her. I don't want a Court solely composed of judges who think that the Constitution is completely fixed or completely flexible. And, if you want to talk to me about politics (or religion, or any subject that can start a war), ask me to argue your position while you argue mine. If we can’t do that, then we should agree to disagree, and proceed to argue about the weather.