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Dear Diary Chronicle,

Rio and I officially rolled out on the road. After much debate, we set our sights on Blanco State Park. I'd like to say that we drove and drove, but the reality is that I left him at my mom's house (just to pick up later in the day - he takes a while to say goodbye), picked the trailer up at storage, and slowly cruised 45 miles westward. 

A gully-washer, a turd-floater, rainin' monkeys... you get the idea, right?

If not, it rained like hell. And then it kept raining some more - just for good measure.

Is there much of anything that is better than sitting around a campfire? Even if it's a smoking, sputtering, popping (popping, not pooping!) fire of green, unseasoned oak, that you pray actually catches? It just enhances whatever you might be doing - whether that's socializing in a loose ring of camp chairs strewn around the fire (as long as you're not the one that is the smoke magnet), playing on your phone, telling ghost stories, cooking smores, or even writing on your laptop.  Sometimes I feel as if I like to do things the hard way... like using green oak...