Not Lost

Hi. I'm not lost or away from home or broken. I just took a couple days off from writing. No real reason. I just took a little break, but I got back into the saddle last night and I have writing for you. Sorry to abandon you so abruptly but you're grownups, I figure you'll survive.

September 9--Magdalene Islands, Quebec. Bonnie questioned the wisdom of staying in the little cottage perched near the edge of the sandstone cliff. A storm had blown ashore at sunset and the sea crashed into the soft rock, eroding deeper and deeper into it. The vibrations shook the whole cliff top. She flinched as a thick mug fell of the shelf and shattered in the sink. She was too jittery to read so she got into bed. Even there she felt the power of the wind and waves shake the island's foundations. She lay awake far into the night wondering if she would wake to find the cottage adrift on a raft of sandstone cliff-top floating out to sea.


September 12--Curacao. Dierdre thought the town looked like a children's toy as the ship sailed into Willemstad. The navy blue of the deep water harbor made an excellent contrast to the pastel facades and bright orange tile roofs of the buildings. They wore the distinct Dutch architecture of the island's colonial roots but the things they sold behind the quaint faces couldn't have been more modern--or pricey. It must have cost a bundle to keep up those old places and ship the goods to the island because the prices made her eyes pop. Her relatives were going to have to be content with a postcard because even the price of a t-shirt was way out of line. Good thing she could eat on board.

See? Two in one! What a treat, right? Um, you do like this, don't you? I mean, nobody ever "comments." Sometimes I feel like I'm all by myself in here. Fine. If you're going to be like that, I'll just write to amuse myself and you can...you can, er, read it if you want. Or not. Whatever. It's Monday. Need I say more?
--Barbara