Overnight In Ventnor

Went at noon to the library to see The Hunger Games.  It's very intense, although whether it's actually anti-war, as I've heard, is questionable to me.  It's certainly, though, a devastating depiction of the all-too-prevalent "violent death as entertainment" we get from mass media and the mindless embrace of same by the citizenry.
Home, I did a wash, changed my bed, and packed an overnight case for Betty's. Got there about 4:00 and was pleased to hear Carole Wimberg C. was staying across the street.  We went over to greet her.  Was she going to the Washington Avenue block party?  Yes, indeed.
It was a nice gathering with a vast array of delicious food, including ribs, fried chicken, sausage, meatballs, pasta, various sides, and yummy desserts.  Betty contributed "southern boil" (or "shrimp boil"), to which her daughter-in-law had introduced her and which I had had in Savannah. Corn, sausage, potatoes, and shrimp are all boiled together (but for different lengths of time) in Old Bay-seasoned water.  She also brought "Irish Matzo," melted chocolate spread on matzo.  I ate plenty and drank a beer and a cosmos; I'm not sure what was in it, but it was ever so good.  Chatted with Carole, her brother, George, and Betty's other neighbors until the mosquitoes declared open season on my ankles and legs.  Went back to Betty's and read until Sis came in.
I had suggested Carole meet us for breakfast this morning and she did.  We walked across the street to Hannah's and ate outside, something I always enjoy.  After, we sat on Betty's porch for a bit, while Carole regaled us with stories of her adventures in Asia and South America.
Now here's the thing: I rarely tell anybody "You should write a book."  In my (limited) experience, those who actually do, and have their books self-published, may get a kind of catharsis from it or their children may be glad for some family history, or something, but in the main--well, I'm afraid most of them are either very boring, exceedingly sanctimonious ("I got off drugs by finding Jesus and so should you") or riddled with grammatical errors, often all three.  There are exceptions: My cousin, Marifran's book, Up From Chaos, being one. It's a totally absorbing account of what it's like to be brought up in a dysfunctional household and would appeal, I think, to a broad readership.
With that long preface, I believe this: Carole should write a book--or at least an account in some form--of her life.  She was a teacher in Japan, a pseudo missionary in Hong Kong (I have no intention of explaining that one here), taught in Brazil, and possesses a gigantic seascape she bought from the old Captain Starns Restaurant in Atlantic City--among many other rollicking adventures.  
Carole is a wonderful storyteller and we were enthralled.  If she could transcribe half of her humor, embrace of the foreign (I mean that in the broadest sense), intelligence, and energy onto a printed page--that is, a computer screen--I think a range of people would like to read it.
Stopped in to see Mary H. on the way home and chatted for a bit with her and her sister, Madge.  Went to Canal's, Produce Junction, and the cemetery.  At the latter, I just watered and pulled a few weeds.  In the fall, I'll assess what's growing and see if I want to add anything.