What can I tell you . We are headed for the bathrooms again. Actually, publicly, more politely known as "rest rooms." I don't know a soul who rests in them.
These tell you everything, the men's. The women's smells sweeter, hence the flowers, and both have room for wheelchairs.
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A little lace on the bottom of her towel. Nice touch. I've often noticed that whenever you stop at a rest stop, the men's rooms are first and the women have to walk all the way around to the back. Other public rooms are like that, too. Well, not always. But I once saw a sign that pointed left, for Men's,and right for Women's because Women Are Always Right. Hey, I can buy into that.
This is Pennsylvania Dutch country.
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And, I think I took this one in Thailand. It indicates a roadside rest.
I am thankful we don't have to use any of these old horrors. But, in a way, the bright blue porta potties aren't as friendly. At remote parks, they are smelly, cement rooms with little air. At a park, or temporary venue, they tend to be wet, overused and messy. But nothing, and I mean nothing compares to the pit toilets of China in a remote location. OMIGOD! The worst places of all experiences. You definitely wouldn't want a picture. Michal and I both found a bush.
Last night was a full eclipse of the moon. I woke up and checked the skies. A billion stars, etched clearly, all the constellations in site. An advantage to live where light pollution is minimal. The first time I looked, about 2:30 a.m. the moon was almost completely covered with a bright yellow sliver on the right. You can sort of see it. Half asleep and hand holding my camera, it didn't exactly come out round.
I finally got the full moon with some stars are just little blips with no ability to get a full constellation without the helpful light of the moon. My camera is limited and can't take those beautiful sky photos I love to see in magazines. Suffice it to say, it was one gorgeous sky and makes you envy early primitive people who lived outside and kept steady watch on the awesome night skies.
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