Once again I have decided to venture out of my comfort zone, also known as these here mountains, and cruise into parts unknown.

I have a friend who lives in eastern Virginia and I went up to see him one recent weekend. I hadn't been up that way in better than a year.

He and I enjoy making music together when we can. His wife doesn't appreciate the degree of our talent nearly so much as we do. The "caterwauling" drives her up the wall, or so she says. But she sticks it out, because she is afraid to leave the two of us alone for long. We might destroy her house.

It almost happened once before. She left us with their three kids (two boys and a girl) and when she got back, they had been into everything. Their room was destroyed, the girl had tried to "bake a pie' and was covered with flour and the boys were playing baseball in the den. Now we are allowed only "supervised visitation.'

At any rate, I drove up there and found my friend's house without a hitch. He had just recently moved and he sent me a letter with the new address and an invitation. I decided to show up a day early and beat the rush. I always was the impulsive sort. I knew I was at the right place, it always looks like a toy store after a tornado touched down.

I pulled right up to the front door without even missing one turn, managing to dodge a sled, a bicycle, a couple of medium-sized dogs and a plastic table and chair set in the process. I was feeling pretty good about myself especially after my fiasco in Chapel Hill. I knew that another such driving experience may lead me to shun the art of "big city' driving forever. I had nightmares about bad directions and one-way streets for a week or two after that.

Anyway, I went in the house and we talked for a little while and I took the grand tour of his double-wide estate and then we made racket until about midnight. After the drive, I was kind of tired, so he tossed me a pillow and a blanket and offered me his favorite couch. By Saturday morning, his wife was running around like crazy trying to clean up the house before their party on Sunday.

By the end of the day, she had the place spotless. We were going to fix up a deer leg for supper, but she wouldn't hear of it in her clean kitchen. We decided to go out for seafood, which is always better near the coast. My friend agreed wholeheartedly, but his wife was doubtful. She is on a diet. I never did get the whole picture, but the way I understand it, she has these little cards that she carries around with her. Every time she gets something to eat, she moves one of these little baseball card things from one pocket to the other one.

I didn't get it, but who am I to judge. Live and let eat. I suppose we all just have to play the hand we're dealt. So when the waiter gave us the menu, she spread out all of the cards she had left. I decided to take the opportunity to showcase my talent, "You've got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them...." I sang. I tried to tell her that it is never a good idea to show the waiter your hand until all bets are in and not to count her money while sitting at the table. I think I embarrassed her.

We were at a pretty ritzy seafood place (it had cloth napkins). After about five minutes or so of figuring, she opted for a medium grilled chicken salad and a piece of dry toast with coffee.

Being the insensitive men that we are, we ate the captain's choice, which contained everything on the menu except squid and lobster. I had a serving platter heaped up with hush puppies, flounder, deviled crab, jumbo shrimp, fried oysters, scallops, french fries and several pounds of other stuff that I didn't even recognize. You should have seen the pitiful look on her face as she munched on her rabbit food.

She must not have played her cards right. Of course I can't say much, I never had a full deck to start with.

After we ate, I said my goodbyes and headed back for the hacienda. I couldn't take a big get-together and house warming. Besides, I had already been with them for better than 24 hours. I am better taken in small doses.

On the way home, I thought about how busy they seemed to be and how busy their home is. I have a hard time imagining what it would be like not to have my time alone. I don't see how they do it and remain sane. Maybe I don't have a full deck, but I don't have a full house, either.

As I rode home, I turned the radio off and listened to the soft hum of the engine on the interstate as the sun set over the mountains along side of the road. Sometimes silence and sunsets are both golden.

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