Sunday, November 28, 2010


I love holiday feasts. Our belated Thanksgiving yesterday was just wonderful. The only thing that would have made it perfect would have been if our daughter were here too. The turkey was juicy, the dressing, green beans, carrots, and onion bread were all ready at the same time, and Mom's pie was delish as usual. (Oh, DD, Grandma would like a few cans of Milnot for Christmas. I was supposed to tell you this morning but I forgot.) I coerced DS & DIL into taking a walk around the block between the food and the pie. Just so you don't think we're laggards, it's a mile to walk around our block. It's big. A lot of football got watched and a lot of visiting was done. It was a lovely, lovely day.

We were hopeful that the woman who viewed the duplex today would be "the one," but she said she's looking for something more modern, so we thought that meant no. Too bad. We're a bit downcast.

November 27--North Male, Maldives. The land here is so low, Rhea thought as the live-aboard dive yacht sailed past one of the Maldives Islands. She turned to the captain at the wheel next to where she stood on the flying bridge. "Which island is that?" He smiled and said, "North Male." Mal-ay, he pronounced it. Mal means bad in French, she thought. In fact when she'd first heard of the Indian Ocean island group she wondered why any scuba diver would go to a place whose name she automatically translated as "bad dives," but here she was the diving was great. She had learned from the dive guide, Ali, to slow down and peer into every crevice and hole in the reef to find the tiny shrimp and juvenile fish. It was a bonus that she had learned much better control of herself underwater. "Are the storms ever bad enough that waves wash clear over the islands?" she asked the captain. He shrugged. "Maybe the smallest ones, but mostly no." She dreamed that night of a rolling wall of brown water moving toward her out of the night. She awoke in her cabin hot and twisted in the sheets to find the boat stopped and no sound except the gentle tapping of wavelets on the hull.

Dun-dun-dunnnnn. Where is everyone and why are they stopped? Tune in tomorrow to find out--maybe. There's some leftover turkey calling my name. Bye!

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