To Move or Not to Move

I've been on the edge of flight mode since the gas generator and boom box kicked into gear last night. The owner turned it off at 10:00, the start of camp quiet hours, but agitations don't settle as quick as an on/off switch. The 4th of July firework displays and plays going on around the area were a nice settling after the gas powered DJ flipped his switch. Still, I woke with visions of tearing down camp, post haste, and being gone before the neighbors in this crowded campground fluttered their vacation eyes.

Calmate, querida, calmate. . .

I took a sunrise walk on the neatly mowed harbor trail, instead. I found a wild herb to scrub my mouth with on the shore. Tastes and sorta looks like oregano. There is enough of it to tempt me to pick a plant to freshen the air in the truck cab. I am still inclined toward moving to a motel until after 4th of July, but I am glad I took the time to calm myself before packing. The crowded conditions and 4th of July boomage are running high, but the panic is coming from my hyper-vigilance.

Detroit still calls. Last night I found myself surfing music studio sites. I found enough of them to make me think the Mowtown Scene is far from abandoned. Where's my musical historian when I need him? I have zero doubt Hubs would have a ton of music trivia to add to the surf. Oh well. The herstorian gots a few tales of her own. Detroit is where I gave up on having the stability to continue piano and bought my first guitar. Guitars are far more portable than keyboards.