The Rain in Maine stays mainly in Maine

Ruth has been brushing up on her stalking skills. It had been a while and I was beginning to think her gaydar was malfunctioning. And then, and do I dare I use the analogy “raining” lesbos? Having set the record for wettest June in Maine’s history, even the locals are grumpy. And while I’m on the subject, I don’t get this “we” thing. I hear on TV that “we” set the record for the afore mentioned record. I’m not sure I should be included… I am only a seasonal resident or seasonal tourist (depending how you look at it) Is it just Mainers that are included in that “we”? Even if I am included… how did I influence the rain? Ruth didn’t do a dance or anything… I think Mother Nature may have a little more influence than I. I know, I know the global warning and all that. So what’s the action – reaction timing? If I throw away my Sunday paper will it rain on Monday? If I use it to start my campfire rather than a chemically induced starter do I get partial credit? Or are we paying for the sins of our fore-fathers? Like, all the Campbell’s soup cans your mother pitched during your childhood made it rain on my Birthday… Jeez, another thing to blame our parents for. Note to self: recycle more.

Once again I digress. Stalking lesbians was the original subject wasn’t it? It seems to have taken the 4rth of July to rain gyrls and Ruth was Johnny on the spot. Two by two they drove up to our registration office. I have to say, it does made it a little easier for Ruth when they come to you… to registration that is. Regardless, there were 3 couples that joined us for the holiday and the 10 percent rule seems to be in effect. That would be 3 out of 32 campsites rented. And the diversity is also evident. One couple was retired Wimbledon watching women from Florida. Another was a couple was of 30 somethings, city dwellers with all the camping toys and a four legged child in tow. The last was a young family unit with a young son from Maine eking out a family vacation in a tent.

As usual Ruth, she managed to befriend each of them before they made it to their campsite … kind of a dyke concierge. It’s fun to watch her work… and then I can just sit back and write about it later. Lol. That is not to say her customer service is any less to the hordes of heteros … it just doesn’t have quite have the same personal Lezbakistani touch.
And I suppose since this blog is public, I should make it clear. By the word stalk I don’t mean that that any inappropriate or unwanted attention was involved. Nor did she don camouflage darting from tree to tree following anyone, (although that’s a pretty cool picture in my head), and clearly as anyone that has tried to reach us knows, there could be no harassing cell calls cuz we don’t have fr@#%kin cell service. In this context, stalk is a euphemism for:

“Sistah! Come have a drink, we’re building a deck this afternoon - it’s byo_casserole dish and power tool”

or perhaps more appropriate to our current circumstance…

“Sistah! Martinis and Dos Equis are served fireside at dusk - byo_seating and Sapphire, limes provided.”

I hope as I write this that the spring rains may finally be over. It is July after all.

Sign of the day: On the lawn of a drug rehab center said: “Keep off the Grass.”

Peace, Luv, and Muck Shoes,

barbie