It was good. Big sleep with Marilyn watching over me. Not my kind of girl, so no trouble dozing off last night.
On the road. South and west today. Chinese-western breakfast not sitting well. Talking to me about bad coffee and white toast. Not coffee. Hot brown water in cup. You could drive through these places with an espresso machine and change the Prairie world. I wish somebody would!
OK, I know it's not flat. I didn't say it was, did I? It's high prairie. Rolling hills and valley formations, big sky. Space for a Lincoln to zoom by in a cloud of dust. Room to think.
I never thought I'd see the day when a real live man said Marilyn Monroe is not his kind of gal.
ReplyDeleteAlthough there is no gal that is "my kind," I think she was gorgeous. But what the h was that goofy thing she did with her lips? It was weird puckering disorder of some sort, thought to be sexy in the 1950s or something?
Do you mean to say you haven't outfitted the Lincoln with a mobile kitchen?