Sign, sign, everywhere a sign....

In about 1996, I was shopping for a motorhome.  I figured ... if and when I happened upon The Right Motorhome ... there would be a sign.

On the way home from checking out a 1982 Airstream, I saw THE most intense double rainbow I had ever seen.

I had my sign.

I also had the name for my new Airstream: Rainbow - rainbow ---> BoBo.

Last night, we ambled (yes: "amble" is exactly what we did) into town to find Guajimbo's Uruguayan Restaurant.  We had a hankering for Uruguayan food ( ? ).

The Gringo trio band was on fire.  After we ordered, they pulled out a moldy oldie that I knew and loved: "Home At Last," by Steely Dan.

Steely Dan's lyrics are relatively well-known for NOT meaning anything, so ... the context of the line is irrelevant, but ... the line is:

  "Could it be that I have found my home at last ?  Home at last....."

It's probably a sign.  It could be a sign.  There are elements OF a sign within that story.

Or not.

Dinner was exquisite.  Donald had pork chops that -- collectively -- weighed in at a couple of kilos.  My tofu parmesan was to die for.  We each had desert and a couple of Guatemalan beers, as the trio kept reeling out their dulcet tones.  Somehow, their set list was a perfect pairing to whatever we were doing, saying, or thinking.

Yeah.  Somehow.

Or ... it may have been the alcohol.

Hotel Utz Jay just stuffed me like a Christmas Goose.  No, they didn't MAKE me order the yogurt breakfast AND the pancakes, but they DID summarily shirk their inborn responsibility to advise me against it.

Urp.

And their coffee, at this place ... tremendo.

And that Mayan Sauna, last night.  Ohhhhhhhhhh, Baby, did THAT hit the spot.

Rain forecast for the afternoon.  Who cares ?  Not I.  Not we.

Ciao for now ... from the well fed, thoroughly scrubbed, marginally hydrated, and intensely caffeinated bureau of ... The Gulag.