This morning I brought all the cleaning stuff back home from 1508--the vacuum, the stepstool, buckets filled with various cleaners and degreasers, assorted sponges and rags, and one very hard-used pair of rubber gloves. I tossed the newspapers that kept the caustic grease cutters off the counter and kitchen carpet and I did an interpretive dance with the broom in the basement to remove too many cobwebs to count. Ick. And by the way, how come we call them cobwebs? I thought cobs were broken-down horses or a convenient corn delivery system. The carpet cleaners have come and gone and I got the first phone call from the ad on craigslist. Whew. Now I can pack for my week at The Clearing.
September 30--Palau. Arsen slowed down so that the boat was barely moving. His head swiveled as he maneuvered between two of the Rock Islands. Clarice thought that the islands looked like green toadstool tops jutting out of the sea, and this close up the jungle covering their steep sides looked impenetrable. Every day after the first dive their guide Fern would get Arsen the boat captain to take them someplace special to eat their box lunches. The first day it had been a deserted island with a broad beach. The next day they had zoomed around a protected bay with their feet dangling off the boat's bow while dolphins rode the bow wave and bumped their feet. Today he threaded the boat through a narrow channel between two of the islands to a still lake where the green jungle crowded close and orchids hung over the water. Clarice and the other divers hurried through their lunches and then donned their snorkeling gear to fin over the wreck of a WWII Japanese seaplane that sat on the bottom providing a home for brightly colored soft corals and darting reef fish.
Okay, now my chicken mushroom soup is simmering, making the house smell great, so it's time to begin packing.
--Barbara
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