Well, its Sunday, noon, and someone is still asleep. Since I am the one writing this blog, you pretty much can guess who "is is" and who "is isn't" and be correct.
Last night, we met up with the kids at the Waterfront area for dinner and a movie. We, of course, trying to follow Queen Anita's verbal directions and only having a limited sense for where were wanted to go and how to get there, got all turned around in downtown Piqqsburgh. I knew the Waterfront was east of downtown. Corinne thought it was by the Point, where two rivers turn into three. The queen? Who knows what she thought, she just wanted us to turn right. When we would turn right, she would say "recalculating" meaning we turned the wrong right. What the H E Double Hockey Sticks does that mean? If she says turn right and we turn right, doesn't that mean we turned right? No wait....our mistake....we forgot the queen is British. The Brits don't drive on the right side of the road. So rightfully, when she says turn right, what she really means is, turn right, not left, right? Anyway, we got to the waterfront right on time.
We decided on eating at Mitchell Fish Market, a well known chain in the Pfishburgh area, and it had a pretty cool sounding name, to me at least. We went inside and were greeted at the hostess desk, asked if we wanted to eat outside (not because we were not dressed all fancy and party-like) on inside, smoking or non-smoking. We choose inside, non-smoking. I also just happened to mention my name was "Mitchell, Bob Mitchell." She said unless its "Cam (Cameron) Mitchell, it didn't mean much to her. I said "well, maybe Bob is my middle name and I am undercover." She responded, "well come right this way Cameron Robert Mitchell." Hmmmm, I thought, pretty sharp. As I walked past her I said, just like my dad would have said under the same circumstances, "You're alright, your job is safe." Man, sometimes I scare myself.
We had a great meal of seafood. The girls had the combo plate, Brandon had seared rare tuna (cooked rare, not rare hard to find rare) and (hey, Moe and Pete) I had San Francisco Cioppino which the waiter said if I didn't like I would get my money back and he would serve me something else. I think I heard that story one time in New York City's Little Italy and it was a lie. Anyways, the Cioppino was good, but not as good as what I get at some restaurant I frequent at Fisherman's Wharf in "The City." Hopefully I will remember the name of the restaurant before finishing this blog so I can share it with you. Everyone enjoyed their dinner, but nobody would eat raw oysters as an appetizer with me so I ate them myself. Missin' out.
We went to a movie after dinner and saw Jodi Foster in The Brave One, a blatant rip-off of Charles Bronson's The Vigilante (or some title like that) from the 70's or 80's. However, it did have a suprise ending which I will not give away here. I liked it. I think everyone liked it. I once saw Jodi Foster in New York City when we were there in the late 1900's. It was late at night, I was going into a McD's in Times Square and she was getting into a car. The girls (and I mean Corinne and Maurine) say I made that up, but I think not. I think they are confusius and don't think she would be coming out of a McD's being she's a big star and everything. Its my story, not theirs, and I can put anybody I want into it, big star or not, and Jodi did have a big movie coming out at that time, and after all, it is New York City, not Podunk, Egypt where no big stars live.
Continued from Sunday....it's now Monday morning....
Before leaving Racoon State Park we needed to dump our waste tanks and fill up the fresh water tank. One of the waste tanks, the one that everyone uses, the one that holds the stinky stuff, smells the worst, and is most important, would not drain. Apparently some BIG clog of stew (if you know what I mean and I think you do do) was blocking the drain pipe and no amount of pinching off the valve could persuade it to move. We decided to head out on the road and hopefully the motion of the ocean would stir up the crap and we could empty it at the next campground. At Dillon State Park we tried to dump the dumper, but the motion of the ocean was not the potion and the coach was still constipated. We ended up giving the tank a non-potable water enema, which caused "movement" in the bowels of the coach. The tank ran like a gringo after a 3-day drunken trip south of the border to visit some guy named Montezuma. All the "s**t" flowed out. The lesson to be learned here is to use plenty of water when you're flushing and to keep your foot on the peddle even if you are pooped out (so to speak).
We are now at Dillon State Park in zany Zanesville, Ohio. Apparently Zane Grey has some connection to this burg, if we have time we'll visit his museum and find out what it is. We do not have phone service at the campground, so we cannot be called there and don't have internet access either. Leave messages if you call our cell phones and we'll get back to you when we can.
We're heading to the Football Hall of Fame in Canton tomorrow then on to "Indianaville" to visit family.
Bobo
PS: Someone says (and I mean Corinne) the restaurant in Frisco is Scoma's. I was also informed we saw Eric Roberts there, he's Julia Pretty Woman Roberts' bro, once. I will have to take her word for it because I didn't know who he was then, and I still don't.
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