One last bowl of colon-blow, then Lis saw me off. I’m sure she was late again too, the sweetie.

Exploring, I found a trail into Umhearse State Park. Nice woods, streams, and a little lake. Never quite got out of earshot of major roads, though. Emerging in Cary, I felt my spirit of exploration cheering. Cary seemed sparse, with big roads and housing developments dotted by attractive little malls.

64 was easy riding – big road, good shoulder. I explored a bit around Jordan Lake, finding many very developed and currently unused facilities. Some were closed due to sewage problems, perhaps related to the hurricane.

Pittsboro is just like I expect, a working-class hippie town. The General Store Cafe is a big open coffeehouse. I enter the kitchen, give Doug a big hug, and am soon munching on a giant green chile burrito. I soon feel that long-lost green chile glow.

Doug’s had a tough day, but he has a massage scheduled to fix him up. I’m jealous when I meet Amy, the masseuse. She has cute freckles, and a smile that dances with her eyes. I notice she gives me her total attention when we talk. My female yummy receptors come on with a little glow.

When we go shopping, the receptors are further stimulated. The University of Northern Carolina campus is the same. I try not to go too gaga.

We drop groceries off at Doug’s mom’s house. She is a member of a community that collectively owns the surrounding land and has amazingly operated successfully for many years. They have a community dinner twice a week, meetings, and cooperative projects.

Sara Lyn, Doug’s community, is also rich in hippies, but not collectively owned. The residents are much more reclusive. Today a new neighbor has moved in and is having a neighborhood-wide housewarming party, a rare occurrence. There will be good music – a local bluesman is playing.

We arrive at Doug’s driveway, clearly signed, “HO CHI MINH TRAIL.” Doug has always had a contumacious sense of humor.

We interrupt Doug’s partner Yvonne on a ‘retreat day’ – a day of silence. She moves about the kitchen, ignoring us. I assume her retreat is over, and indeed it is. I introduce myself, dance around in her space, and ask lots of questions. She does her best to politely deflect my inquiries, and Doug works on distracting me. It works a little, but I’m too curious about her to ignore her. She gives up, sits down to talk with me, and I get the impression of her I was looking for. She would like to explore silence and meditative states to a greater degree, to the point where she can be absolutely unapproachable when she chooses. She eats nothing with added sugar. She seeks to avoid stimulus. Satisfied, I leave her in peace, just as two of Doug’s friends arrive for the party. I’m touched when, as we exit, she quietly tells Doug to invite me to stay longer if I’d like.

I don’t like Dave, the new neighbor. He seems seedy. But he’s very polite, and has made super-tasty spiced cider for the party. A nice looking woman with Indonesian-looking eyes is playing and singing. Slowly, I realize I am attracting people. Beautiful Carole, when she’s done singing, comes right over to me. I bask in her undivided attention. She mentions she has to retrieve something from her car, so I turn my attention to the music. But she starts talking to me again. This happens a few times, until I say, “Yes, of course, please go.” She breaks loose. I enjoy similar talks with several other women there. Some of them remark that I seem to be glowing. Maybe it’s just Southern manners, but they all kind of ask permission in some way before leaving. Strange, but enjoyable. I sleep with dreams of Cynthia, a girl I worked with in Chicago with eyes like Carole’s, embracing me. Yes, yes, the receptors were busy today.