Today was another vacation day. The kids were up early, but I was able to sleep in. After getting up and having breakfast, I hit the pool for some fun time with the kids. In the afternoon we tried our hand at fishing, but it we weren't too lucky. With the exception of a few shad, we didn't catch anything. Later that afternoon, we went out and got some chicken livers and hit the catfish jackpot, landing four of them before we had to call it quits for the day. Had we planned ahead, we could have had catfish for dinner vs. the crabs we were heading out to pick, but instead we went and...
...had dinner at Waterman's Crabhouse. It's up in Rock Hall (about a 20 minute drive north) and sits on the Rock Hall harbor overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. We (D, Betsy and I) split a couple dozen crabs, along with a few pitchers of Sam Adams and a slice of peanut butter pie for dessert. It was good. (Betsy had a salad to start her meal; D and I were there to eat crabs and forewent anything that would prevent us from enjoying them.)
After dinner, we sat at the table and chatted for a while before we moved over to the bar. It was there, while D and Betsy were dancing, that I spotted a couple of cougars out on the prowl (one 45-ish, the other 50-ish). They sat down next to me and we started chatting it up about the brush-off a guy down the bar gave them regarding his hat. Sheri had bleached blond hair that looked just a shade whiter than platinum (for this reason, I termed her the snow cougar). Germaine (the one sitting next to me) had tight skin, the kind you find after two too many facelifts. After a while, D and Betsey came back from dancing and we all started talking. Sheri was very forward and showed interest in both D and Betsy (especially D's engagement ring). At some point, another woman with platinum blond hair walked by. Sheri said something to her about hoping she could pull off looking that good at her age (the woman was probably in her mid-50s). The lady looked back and shot daggers at Sheri, making some remark about starting with a new wardrobe or something. Me-ow! I thought it was going to turn into a catfight, but, alas, it did not.
With that and other details I won't share here adding to the weird vibe in the air, we decided to leave for a pub back in Chestertown. While there wasn't a band (like there was at Waterman's), they did have Guinness on tap, so I was up for a change in venue.
Later on at O'Hannon's the bartender mentioned she had only been in town for eight months (the same as Sheri and Germaine), so Betsy asked if she knew them.
"Yeah, I know them. They're in every now and again." she told us. "But Rick here," she added, pointing to a man sitting to my left, "knows them better than most of us. Don't you, Rick?" The way she said it indicated his knowledge was more intimate than just sharing a beer at a bar.
"You could say that," was all he said, looking sheepishly into his beer.
I got the distinct impression he wasn't up for talking about it. I'm pretty sure if I was in his shoes, I wouldn't want to talk about it either.
We headed back to the house and sat on the porch talking and I strummed the guitar, trying to get in as much practice as possible before next week's lesson. (I didn't want to lose another weekend by not practicing like I did last weekend when we were in Williamsburg, so I had brought my guitar to Chestertown.)
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