It looks like it's going to be a perfect day, warm and sunny. Pretty sure no one really needs dive equipment today. I could just stay home and sit on the patio with my notebook, right? No one would know, right? Right? Oh, all right, I'll go to work. Sheesh, you guys are tough. But first here's what I wrote last night.
March 30--Iles des Saintes, Guadeloupe. Feeling like he had traveled back in time as well as into the tropics, Derek stood on the edge of the road that wound up the hill, and stared at the harbor. Deep blue water filled the generous space ringed by the green hills and punctuated with the white hulls of sailboats. Most of them were fairly small with only one mast but a few of them sported two or even three masts giving them the look of the old ships that carried cargo and passengers. Derek had dreamed since boyhood of leaving his safe life behind to ship out on a ship just like the ones below. His bookcase had been crammed with books about naval battles and explorers, pirates and treasure hunters; tales of adventure on the high seas had filled his dreams. He had learned to sail in college and had crewed in a few races, but graduation and a job had ended those carefree days. He had chose Guadeloupe as a vacation spot because he had read that it was a popular port for sailors and the proof was before him. As soon as he had checked in he'd be off back down the hill prowling the docks and the dockside bars to find where the seafaring men, and women, hung out.
I pulled a muscle in my right thigh or something. It's killing me, and it kept me from working out today. I hate not working out.
--Barbara
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