The RV park had great amenities (wifi, a zillion cable channels, a pool), but was bogged down under a heavy whiff of chain link fence/junkyard dog/Rebel flag ambience. We referred to it as the Slingblade Campground. However, it was about 40 minutes' drive from Chuck and Linda's house. Gorgeous neighborhood and beautiful homes, and a nice couple of days making Indian food and staying up all night talking, going with Linda to her gym the next day, getting our nails done, shopping for organic produce and meat (incredible pre-cheesed cheeseburgers), and grilling teriyaki flank steaks outside. Meanwhile, offstage (or, upstairs) the drudge business of laundry whirled our clothes back to wearability and her printer chugged out docs downloaded from the internet, while I swung in her hammock and watched some fireflies.

The Evil Genius, Pogo. He looked sinister at first, but all he really wanted was to lick you. With a constantly-wagging tail like an animatronic weisswurst.

Our own little alien, back at the rig, trying to figure out how to get the Log Of Joy (the log-shaped hamster treat of peanut butter and seeds) off the ledge and up to his lair, preferably in one hammer-headed-hamster move: