We are at the coast, renting a house at the beach for the week. Earlier I drove to the grocery store here and at one turn got cut off by a lady in a large white sedan. Turns out to be a Pontiac Parisienne. I never heard of that model.

Not much to report, other than we just got back from a hour on the beach. The dogs had a wild time and hopefully are tired out enough for the rest of the evening. Boris is growling at sounds from outside but then he's a little high-strung like that and he will calm down in awhile.

As typically mundane as all this is, and however of a type with the rest of what I post and therefore best never written down, I had to particularly take the opportunity this day, no matter how banal the subject. I didn't expect to have access to the internets here. Fortunately, the free wireless access provided by the large hotel across the street is leaking over and myself and Mrs The Fyd are taking advantage. Which is fine because the owner of that particular hotel chain is a reactionary pig.