Monday, October 18, 2010

Dang It

I've been so sleepy lately I've been in bed just after 10 with the lights out by 10:30 and still I'm oversleeping my alarm by an hour. I like getting up early and having lots of time to do stuff before I have to go to work and it just ain't happening. Maybe I'm getting too much sleep?

I think my bike seat's too low but I did pedal from Eve's parking lot to the boat launch in DePere and back, about 8 miles total. It's the longest I've gone so far. I have a slight case of "bicycle butt" but it'll go away fast I'm sure. It was a gorgeous day with a cool breeze and bright sunshine. I went during the Packer game and there were a lot more people on the trail than I thought there'd be, even a bunch of Navy guys doing a run. I thought squids only swam. Cammo BDUs look odd in blue.

October 17--Ireland. Blood was making my fingers slick. They were beginning to slip off the narrow edge of stone. My shivering wasn't helping. The wind swirled around the limestone stack and it cut through my wet clothes like knives. The day had begun so well. We walked out of the village from our B&B down to the little harbor in Mayo where we rented a sailboat for the afternoon. Cam is a good sailor, experiences in single masters, so we headed out. The day was fine with a good wind. We were having a lovely time until Cam turned us back toward port. We got caught broadside by a wave just as a strong gust slapped our sails and over we went. Just like that we were in the drink and the stupid boat gave up and sank immediately. It never even tried to float and we were left to swim home. We made it to this stack and Cam encouraged me to climb up out of the freezing sea but I'm still so cold and I can't see him or hear him. "Cam? Where are you?" I call, but only gulls answer.

Write about something you can only find one of. "Damn it," said Gina as she peered under the bed. "Where is it?" Her small hand thrust into the dark and dusty space shifting storage totes and sending dust buffaloes tumbling away. She found a partly chewed rawhide that Barkley was evidently storing for later and the green blouse she thought her old roomie had moved out with. "I need that shoe." She crawled to the nightstand and pulled out one of those halogen flashlights they sell all over, flopped on her belly and scootched around to look again. How did the universe expect her to lock in the Warrington contract wearing only one of her lucky pumps?

Have an awesome Monday, folks!

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