I could easily lie on the couch knitting and watching mindless TV for the rest of the day and far into the week, but I told the dive club guy that I'd get these articles written and to him by the 18th so I'd better only lay around part of the day. Dusty and I tried to walk on the trail at UWGB but it's too hot and windless and the skeeters were hungry. I hate that buzzing in my ears. We'll tackle it again when it isn't so hot, humid, and still. Did you ever have one of those days when you hate all the purses you own? I'm having one. I pulled all the ones that I own out of the closet and put my stuff first in one and then another, and I think I'm going to change yet again. Maybe I should just crawl under the bed and wait until tomorrow comes. It's bound to be a better day, right? (I'm in one whale of a crap mood can you tell?)
July 10--One Foot Island, Cook Islands. Aitutaki Lagoon is a vision of a tropical paradise. The sandy beach that rims it is whiter than white and the water is so clear that you're surprised that it's so salty. You know what it really looks like? A rich person's swimming pool. The whole island looks like a jet set playground, but it isn't. It's hot, humid, and buggy. Most of the plants have thorns or spines or sharp edges, and few, if any, of them are edible. There's no fresh water on the island either, so if you're shipwrecked or marooned there you're done for. I kind of admire the island for being a beautiful death trap. It's the South Seas version of "don't judge a book by its cover."
Well, that's most definitely sucktastic. Sorry to inflict it on you on the weekend. And happy 50th anniversary, To Kill a Mockingbird. Go read something.
--Barbara
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