iLike!

Thanks to Ren, THE GENIUS, I now have an iLike account and can easily link the song of the morning to my Glass Incarnate postings. It also shows everything I have been listening to recently and since it's the melancholy playlist from Ren, my taste looks a lot more hi-brow than it normally does. At last a technology that makes music as easy to show and share as pictures are. When was the last time you had to download a "player" to view a picture someone sent you? Never! I am tired of being prompted to download yet another widget to share music snippets. It's not like I'm trying to pirate anything--I just want to share a small piece and pique the interest. I will be pursuing iLike more... let's try an add to the template...

Nesting

Will I ever post about the cruise? I should have done it right away. Now the memories fade into a warm fuzz of walking, sleeping, snuggling, good food, sunshine, trashy books and umbrella drinks. The best part was not getting off the ship (but once) while everyone else got off. Peace and quiet with a slight rocking motion. I will do the Chaccoben ruin photos at the least.

But today I show off springtime in the south. I waited so long that it is starting to fade to summer (can you imagine? in March!). First up, the weeping cherry in the backyard next to the pauciflora (the yellow bush) followed by the shooting bamboo. I waxed eloquent the other week about the beauty of the magnolias, cherries, redbuds, etc. The weekend's addition to the bouquet was the wisteria which has burst into bloom dripping from every old stand of pines and pecans. No photos of it as I STILL don't have one and didn't have a camera when we were on the road to the nursery on Saturday. You'll just have to take my word for it--it's stunning.

Ever since we moved to Atlanta there have been many things higher in the queue than potting annuals and setting up little family areas in the yard. The yard work--when it happened--was done in broad brush stroke: plant bamboo, lay turf, plant trees, put up the little house and paint it. It was a huge empty space that had to be lightly and evenly filled.

Now I'm at a point where I can focus on improving small areas. the "nesting" process one does to make a house or yard a home. One of those areas is the children's play area in the front. J had a friend over last week and they had hot dogs for dinner at the picnic table and played in the front yard. Last evening while I was finishing up putting the tropical plants around the pond, J rocked in her glider.

Last weekend I not only bought a bunch of flats of annuals, pots and potting soil, I also planted them all and set up the pots on the front steps. I had a lot of help from J who wore her rain boots to keep out the dirt and a Braves cap to keep off the sun. A new southern Belle. She lined up the pots to fill with soil and she watered everything as it got planted. Now it's her job to water all the pots daily. She gets to use the hose and doesn't have to rely on a small watering can--though that would keep her occupied for an hour or so everyday after school...

Previously on the steps was Halloween pumpkin that never got carved and sat all winter till it rotted away. Dave finally scraped it up and threw it out, but there were a few seeds left. Jessie put them in one of the pots of annuals (white petunias) and now we anticipate pumpkin vines spreading across the front yard.

Yesterday I took the day off and moved the little round pond from the back deck to the screened in front porch. There is a still a fountain on the back deck to provide water for the dogs and the squirrels, but I am tired of having to clean the leaves out of the little pond and unclog the filter. The goldfish in the pond are also likely to be happier now that there are no predators who will try to fish for them at night. A few ferns, palms and other tropicals from Home Depot added the finishing touches. Someday we might get real outdoor furniture, but for now the rocker we don't have room for in the house fits just fine.

I close with the view down our street this morning. You can see the understory of redbuds, cherries, dogwoods and other flowering trees peeking through the pecans and pines. This weekend (maybe even this week) I begin the design and planning process for the real pond that will go in the backyard. Everyone keep your fingers crossed that this time putting in a pond doesn't mean we will move in the next year. I want to stay to enjoy this yard for awhile.

That Was Then, This Is Now

I just read Ren's post on her morning routine and all I can say is Holy Sh*t! How does she get all that done in an hour?!? Eye shadow AND eyeliner? Wow. If it's a good day, I brush the teeth and hair. If not, I just pull the hair up in an elastic and go. The shirt will have stains on it: Dave does the laundry and he and the Spray 'N Wash don't see eye to eye. I would rather have stains than do the laundry.

I have not always been like this. I remember the pre-work routine taking up to an hour 15 and containing make-up, curling irons, showers and moisturizer. Living in the dry north it used to take me 15 minutes every morning just to coat my body with moisturizer else I'd suffer the ravages of itchy dry skin all day.

My pre-work morning now is divided into two parts: Jessie and blogging. Hygiene is for other people (as is commuting, but I won't crow about that too much as it is a sad state of affairs that so many have to go so far every day before they even begin work).

In an hour--if I really rush--I get a five year-old out of bed by tickling her and carrying her into the bathroom while blowing raspberries on her belly (or dragging her kicking, screaming and thrashing). Then I cajole (or browbeat) her through her ablutions which now include cleaning the newly pierced ears and a careful brushing of the teeth with the gaping hole. Then there is hair brushing--hers has still never been touched by scissors wielded by a hand other than her own (and that was just that once three years ago) followed by dressing. I can't sugar-coat it: Dressing is a chore every Day as the panties must be Just Right (low on the hips), with the pants over them Just So (so the tops align evenly). The pants may neither be too tight nor too loose. On a day where I maintain equilibrium and she stays on task, we both get through with neither tears nor threats. The allotted time for all of these activities is 30 minutes. Then I assist with coat and shoes (assistance mostly consists of repeated cries of "Hurry up! Daddy's ready to go!"), shove a bagel into small hand, kiss everyone good-bye, and push them out the door. Alone at last. The coffee brews, and I blog the daily glass incarnate. If I am really good, I finish by nine and go back upstairs to tie back the hair and throw on some clothes. Shower? Make-up? Pah!

Good thing I work alone, huh?

Go Uma!

I have added checking up on Uma to my morning web routine. Anna Nicole Smith died, NASA is dealing with an astronaut love triangle scandal (it used to be just leaky seals), Iraq is an ongoing sink-hole mess, and Uma fights quietly on. I love the photo, and I love the eloquent post that accompanies it. I may keep reading Erik even after Uma is dancing in the streets again. What is it about edgy, arty California types (Yes, Ren and Jodi, I mean you too) that draws me into their blogs? I even like reading about Just Jenn's snack foods for heaven's sake. Then there's the heartland connection... No wonder I have trouble getting stuff done. Too much surfing other people's lives and too little living my own. But maybe that's just winter.

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Deathcab For Cutie just came on iTunes (thanks again, Ren). I need to go call someone just to say I love you...

More Uma

Apparently my last post was a bit... obscure.

I am not a Generation MySpace. I grew up producing papers on a typewriter with the Encyclopedia Britannica as the fact-providing resource. And I am not old. My upbringing predisposes me to approach the Internet with an eternally renewing awe, i.e., I don't take it for granted. Every few months I will have an almost-epiphany about the real nature and scope of it, the essential humanity of it. I had one of those yesterday.

Every morning I start my day with CNN.com (not surprising since my husband is a techie geek there... why else would we live in Atlanta?). I read about the last minutes of life for dozens of people in Iraq the day before, the daily agonies inflicted upon children all over the world, the pain, and death and worse that one human perpetrates on another in the unending flow of "life". It is mentally and emotionally numbing. How can we cope with the constant stream of bad? How can we keep seeing the beauty and joy in life? Dave shakes his head and says, "Your life would be better if you didn't read that." But someone else had to live and die it, it seems the least I can do to honor that is to read about it.

So yesterday someone I do not know (the essence of the net) read Stranded in the South and posted on USB microscope envy. Being a curious mammal I tracked back to see who this person is. I read her blog Inconstant Directive. I love reading about other people's lives and prefer it if they are not celebrities or other famous people alive or dead whose (auto)biographies are bound and sold. I like to discover the extraordinary in other ordinary people. Her blog is new and only has links to two other blogs on it; one to Jodi's Snarky Dork (I already read that one) and one to someone named Erik who writes My Year of New Things. I jumped over to Erik and read about his friend Uma who had a brain aneurysm recently. For a whole set of complicated triggers and responses in my head that I cannot even begin to lay out here, I was compelled to go into our backyard last night and write Uma's name on the green man we have on our deck (backed by Jessie's Prince Charming frog pond spitter that I haven't got a pond for yet, two little squirrel drinking cups with frog and lizard, and an Isobel Bloom ceramic fish).

I stood there freezing my feet with my hand on the green man and sent good thoughts winging to Uma. Will it do any good for her? Who knows. But it did good for me. In the daily tide of faceless death and woe on the Internet I felt a connection with the real humanness, humanity of Erik's post on vandalizing the world for Uma day... and I can't explain it any better than that. Like I said, I have an almost-epiphany. It's like calculus that way.

Uma

"The Internet is a mysterious and powerful device whose mystery is only exceeded by its power."

Today someone new came here via Snarky Dork, and the visitor's Inconstant Directive led me to Erik's Year of New Things, and Uma.

There are countless people in the world to whom bad things are happening every second of every minute of every day. C'est la vie, che sera sera, that's life. That may be life, but this is human. Go Uma.

Tooth Model Books

What a week! I am finally catching up. Deep breath. The photographer from my publisher arrived Tuesday afternoon to begin three full, grueling days of shooting all the how-to and materials/tools photography for the book, which will be chronicled in Glass Incarnate tomorrow. Friday morning at 9:30 I got a call from Jessie's school. She was fine, but there had been a little accident...

It seems that the four and five year-olds had decided to mosh in their class. Jessie was on the top of the pile and when the boy on the bottom heaved up she flew out and right into a wooden chair... mouth first. The good news is that she didn't cut her lip. The bad news is that the force of the hit knocked her front tooth out. It snapped clean off. Her teeth were not even slightly loose so this isn't just a little early or right on time, it was a bloody, gory break.

I flew out of the house leaving the photographer, his assistant and my assistant with promises of "I'll be right back". Well I was, but then I had to leave again to take her to the dentist to make sure there wasn't any damage to the surrounding teeth that needed to be fixed immediately. And I didn't call her dentist--who is a very nice man but whose receptionist is a real bi... meanie. I called my dentist. The receptionist put me through to my dentist's partner (I figured my dentist was in the middle of a crown or something) and he said to come right in and he would look at it. Turns out the office was closed. The receptionist was there with her maltese puppy wearing her jeans and doing a little paperwork. The dentist was in a polo shirt and casual pants, just in to grab a few things before heading out of town. He told Jessie to call him Dr. Jay, and he charmed her into the chair. He looked over the carnage and declared her fine, but recommended an X-ray from her dentist this week. Then he found her a little envelope to put her tooth in and ushered us to the door after refusing any payment. The receptionist let Jessie pet the puppy.

We arrived home to find the photography team struggling manfully on without me, and I settled J down to watch a movie while we worked. Dave came home in the afternoon and took over the J, who napped for two hours and awoke refreshed for Fun Friday at the Y. Dave and I took our shattered selves to the Istanbul Cafe for Turkish food and belly dancing.

We got through Saturday in an exhausted daze. J had her interview with Atlanta's Young Faces Modeling Agency at 1:00 and I think it went well in spite of the missing tooth. They probably won't be able to use her for print modeling, but she's not really interested in that anyway. She wants to be an actress, and this agency represents a lot of the child "talent" booked for roles in the movies filmed in Atlanta. For the commercial division (the film side of the house) they care more about character than looks, and a missing tooth is not a liability (which it is on the "pretty" side of the house). This philosophy fits in with our household ethos better than the Jon Benet alternative so we are both a bit relieved.

Now there's today. We thought we might have a calm day to relax but at midnight J came down with a screaming ear infection and she was the one screaming. We all slept in short stretches the rest of the night between bouts of Tylenol-laced crying pain. Today, with a fever of 100.8, J reposes on the couch sleeping and watching movies (Chicken Run right now). Dave and I fill the new bookcases from the stacks of books lying all over the house. Delicious Library is turning out to be a disappointment for books (It was great for the dvd's and really good for the cd's too). But we will get everything sorted by category, shelved, and alphabetized today, and eventually we will have an on-line database.

And that is our weekend. Weight Watchers goes on throughout, and we prepare for the arrival of Dave's parents on Thursday for next weekend.

Bugs

A couple of weeks ago Jessie had another outbreak of "bugs" in her class at school. I reacted by immediately braiding her hair tightly in a cornet and not taking it down for five days. I took it down long enough to wash it, and promptly put it back up again for another five days--while it was still wet. I was in denial.

Tonight while I was bathing J and washing her hair I happened up on... something. I cleaned a bunch of hair out of the comb I used to comb the conditioner through, and there was something... small and black. I had Jessie get out of the bath (I was in it too) and get my reading glasses. I looked closer. It looked like a mature louse--don't ask how I know. J looked at it. She saw an antenna. Dave came in the bathroom and joined in the examination. He was of the minority opinion that it was a bit of schmutz. I wanted him to go to Publix for one of the little metal combs and a nasty chemical shampoo for the J. We were at an impasse. Then Dave reminded me of why I married him.

He took the object in question downstairs and examined it under the USB microscope I got him and the J for Christmas. Happily, he was right (shown at 60 X actual size). Science. It works. And he didn't have to shave his head.

Dieting

The Weight Watchers goes on. I had a long day today (the first day of the how-to photography for the book in the studio) and I just finished doing the prep in the studio for tomorrow's photo shoot. It's 11:00 pm. I am exhausted beyond belief, but I login to the Weight Watchers site to track my "points" for the food I have eaten today.

Me: "Wow. Even after two glasses of wine with dinner I still have nine points left today!"
Dave: "Ooh, you should eat a stick of butter!"

Bad Mommy

7:45 a.m. Jessie is snuggled down in a burrow of blankets with just her eyes and nose peeking above the sheet. I approach the bed:

J: Don't even.
Me: Don't even what?
J: Don't even think about it.
Me: Think about what?
J: Pulling all the covers off me.

I, of course, do, and there is much giggling and shrieking as I carry her into the bathroom to start getting ready for school.

Music and the Five Year-Old

J: Mommy, was Elvis Costello disgusting?
Me: Why do you ask?
J: Because he said so in his song.

Mind you this is in the car, out of the blue, with no Elvis Costello music anywhere around. My daughter, the empress of the non sequitur.

Scam Artists In My Internet!

The shame! Yesterday morning I put our sofa, chair-and-a-half, ottoman and two sets of slipcovers for it for sale on craigslist. Within an hour I got an email from harry_flex07@yahoo.com:

"Hello,how are you doing today?i will like to know if the item is avialable for sale.
thanks"

And it is right below the big header that craigslist puts on all email sent through their system:

** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY --- AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
** Avoid: wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
** More Info: http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams.html

Well, there are a lot of scam flags in the email (generic message, no mention of name of actual item, bad spelling and grammar--and what's up with that? Why do most of the scam/spam emails you get have horrible spelling and grammar? Is it because they are written by non-native speakers of English or just by criminal anti-masterminds?), but I reply anyway:

"Hi Harry,

Yes, the items are all still for sale--we just listed them today.

Brenda"

Now I shouldn't have put my name in the message, but there might have been a chance the message was legitimate (and pigs will fly out my...).

So I get a reply this morning:

"Hello i really appreciate your response to my earlier mail.like i said i will like to buy this item am okay with the price of $1580,i will add $50 for you to withdraw the advert from craigslist. I will also like you to know that i will be paying via cashiers check or money orders .I will need you to provide me with the following information to facilitate the mailing of the check or money orders.
1.Your full name
2.Your mailing address be it residential or postal address
3.Your phone number.
I will like you to know that you will not be responsible for
shipping i will have my shippers come over as soon as you have cashed the cashiers check or money orders.
Have a nice day.
Harry"

I snort into my coffee as I read his email. Yeah, right. He will pay me for the privilege of owning my used sofa. So I write back:

"Hi Harry,

Thanks for the reply. Sadly, the terms are unacceptable (see the craigslist advisory). Geez, Harry, do you think I'm a moron? Have a nice day!"

Now I wait for the American Kidney Fund to come and get all the VHS tapes, old PC software (including over 20 classic games like Quake, Neverwinter Nights, Thief and Max Payne), J's too-small clothes and shoes (I can't say "old" because I still have a lot of clothes from my graduate school days in the late 80's...), a 100 cd changer, a joystick, the ruthlessly-culled tupperware, books, blocks, Duplo... you get the picture.

Still Cleaning the Office...

Mom & Me outside my condo on the south side of Chicago circa 1994. When I get tired of pulling my hair out of the way I look at this picture and think "It worked..."

The Ruthless Divesting Continues...

I just finished cleaning out the tupperware cabinet. Yesterday I emptied bookshelves of old windows pc video games and windows pc software. Last week the vhs tapes were decimated. It is the new year and I am sweeping it clean with a vengeance. Really, it has nothing to do with avoiding balancing the check books and credit cards and entering all the expenses for my business into Quickbooks. Really.

It is another rainy winter day in Atlanta. Yesterday it was sunny and mid-hi 60's. J rode her bike, I left all the doors open for the fresh breezes to play in the house. Today J is cuddled up on the couch watching "Moulin Rouge" and I have no further excuses. I gird my loins (well, they are already girded), I refresh my coffee, I... ooh, do we have the Moulin Rouge soundtrack on cd? Maybe I should find it and rip it to iTunes so I can listen to it while I balance registers. If we don't have it, I bet I can find it on iTunes... "GET THEE TO THY DESK, WOMAN", I hear my husband bellow. More anon.

'Twas the Day After Christmas

'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
The papers were strewn like nests for a mouse.
The stockings were tossed in a pile by the chair,
Clear evidence that St. Nick had been there.

The child was nestled in front of t.v.
With visions of Miyazaki on it to see.
With Dave at his office, I was at my desk
Having just settled down to a bookkeeping mess.

When what to my wandering mind did occur
But an idea so brilliant I had to concur.
Away to the bookcase which holds dvds
I pulled all the "tapes" out, some new space to see.

The dust in the holes of the now empty space
Encouraged me on, I proceeded apace.
A box on the floor was now home for them all,
I cleaned up the shelves and was having a ball!

With nary a glance I sealed up the box,
But then had to pause to consider the loss.
Good movies were there and it wasn't their fault
That VHS in our house had come to a halt.

"Now let's not be hasty", I said to myself.
What we need might just be a post-Christmas elf.
More rapid than eagles my fingers they flew,
I bought Amazon dvds, both the old and the new.

As good intentions before procrastination fly,
My bookkeeping tasks had all been let lie.
Blogger and eBay, Bidslammer and IM,
They got more than their share of my attention.

And the afternoon waned, me always online.
The Disney and Bond were the hardest to find.
$22 for "Lion King 2",
And Bond in boxed sets--I must try something new.

He lights up the screen, whether Sean, Roger or Tim,
And I simply must have my collection of him.
To eBay I travel, my desire fulfilled.
With bidslammer I tried for a "View to a Kill".

His manner austere, his chin with a cleft,
With weapons or women he's always so deft.
But let's not forget Jessie's Disney array,
I must find Toy Story by the end of the day.

The spouse, in the meantime was on his way home,
His only desire a bath and a tome.
The day had been arduous, with bugs most obscure,
And a relaxing evening was all he'd endure,

He opened the door, to the dogs gave a whistle,
Hugged his daughter then headed upstairs like a missile.
"How's your day?", he inquired and I had to blush,
My plans for the day had all turned to mush.

He said nothing more but went off to his bath,
And left me with my schedule, doing the math.
Maybe tomorrow I'll get some work done.
I'll focus on business and not on having fun.

He smiled as he went and I felt even worse,
How much time had I spent writing up all this verse?
Tomorrow, I vowed, I will work like a dog,
I'll reconcile and I'll clean and I'll not even blog!

Peace on Earth

Christmas is a time I remind myself to love and honor... well, at least try to like and appreciate... or at least not to disdain all mankind. It has been tougher than usual this season. Last night I participated in a screaming match with another woman driver whom I honked (gently) for not going on a green arrow and then honked continuously when she continued to sit deliberately through the rest of the green arrow. I stopped honking for the red light that followed, but when she still didn't go on the following green, I laid on the horn all the way through it. I was just getting ready to pull around her (I had been previously blocked) and she moved--around the corner to the red light we both had to sit through on the other side of the right turn we were making because she had intentionally sat through TWO greens to piss me off. I rolled down my window to yell at her as she stormed out of her car and up to my open window, finger waggling in my face. It was an ugly, ugly moment. We were both lucky the other one didn't have a gun. And she was lucky the deerhounds aren't aggressive as opening the back door of the van and letting them treat her like a Scottish red deer was (momentarily) tempting. Had her male companion in the passenger seat joined the fray I probably would have invoked the dogs (Baxter may be small, but he's fierce).

All those people who think the world would be a more peaceful place if run by women should have been there to re-evaluate their assumptions. I don't know what brought her to that moment. She had obviously been trying to eat and drive (hence the sandwich in the hand that was not shaking a finger in my face) and had missed seeing the light change. My first honk was just enough to put her over the edge. I had a car full of dogs (returning from the groomer) and had had enough of rude drivers in rush hour and she was my last straw. I try not to drive during the rush because there are just enough drivers who are either rude, self-centered ba... boogers or completely oblivious morons to make it a miserable experience for anyone trying to get from place A to place B quickly, competently, and POLITELY.

So back to Christmas. In the calmer light of day I wish I knew who she was so I could apologize to her for calling her a stupid bi... cow. Today I resolve to be kinder to everyone, not just to those whom I think deserve it. And it will be an easier resolution to keep as I am not going to drive anywhere! May your days be merry and bright, and may all the people in front of you go on green lights.

The Omniscience of Santa

J: Momma, can we write a letter to Santa?
B: Sure, honey.
J: But since Santa can hear everything, we don't need to call him or write him. We just talk and he'll hear us. So we don't have to write a letter.

Five Year-Olds and MRI's

We've clearly all been watching too much House:

J: My leg hurts.
D: Guess we're going to have to amputate!
J: What's amputate?
B: Cut it off.
J: No, just do a MRI.

Diving... I Live!

So the story of the diving... Dave and I went diving Monday afternoon for the first time in a year. Last year we got one dive (a shore dive with the same dive operation) in during our vacation before Hurricane Wilma sauntered by and ruined the weather (and diving) for everyone. This year we had high hopes for a lot of good diving, but that was before I got sick. Monday was the big day.

First dive, the divemaster said before we got off the boat "Don't go below 130 feet, don't stay down more than an hour, and keep at least five minutes on your time to decompression." I guess he figured that since we all had dive computers (provided as part of our dive) we couldn't kill ourselves. The dive was billed as a cave dive, but what it really was was a dive through a series of twisty coral overhangs and swim throughs. If I wanted to do agility, I would become an Australian Shepard and develop a taste for kibble. We emerged from the tunnels (those of us who did them--Dave was not one, he swam above) and soon after had to turn around as one of the divers was at the halfway point for air. The diver was Dave and the divemaster made me ascend with him after only 20 minutes of diving as we were "buddies". I thought we were all a group of divers and I was surprised to be forced out of the water with 1200 psi of air out of 3000 left in my tank. I understood the necessity of just swimming around the anchor point and not heading off, but I saw no need to get out of the water completely with two divemasters in the water with us.

The story only got worse as the next dive I couldn't get below six feet. I was too congested and my right ear wouldn't pop (the Sudafed I took before diving had worn off). So Dave buddied up with the divemaster and he got a good long dive in (as did the other 13 divers) while I tanned grumpily on the boat.

I know they say you have to get right back on the horse, but I was depth-shy. Tuesday we talked about shore diving but I weenied out. I wanted to give my cold and my ear one more day. We were scheduled for another boat dive Wednesday, but I still didn't think I was well enough and canceled Tuesday afternoon. I tried to cancel the boat dive we had scheduled for this morning, but I called too late and they had already sent the van into town for the night to pick us up in the morning. So I was guilted into trying a dive.

I barely slept at all last night. Nyquil doesn't have a decongestant so I took Dayquil instead. My heart raced from 2 am till 4 am and I had nightmares about the dive. Note to self: no Dayquil at night. We finally got up at 6 (Dave wasn't sleeping too well either) and I was still severely congested. I was resigned to dying on the dive, or at least blowing an eardrum. Not being able to regulate the pressure by popping your ears can keep you from diving. But what about inability to regulate pressure when you are already down and need to come up? We learned about it in diver certification. It's not pretty.

So we get on the boat and out to the first dive site. I suit up and get in first. I get down to 15 feet fine and have hope. I hang out there and wait for everyone else to get in the water and we head down towards 100 feet. However the ear balked and could not be coaxed any lower than 70 feet so there I stayed. The rest of the group was spread out below me, but I had the last laugh: the deeper you go, the more air you use. So by staying at 70 feet I was bothte first one in the water and the last one out. I actually ran out of time before I ran out of air and got in an hour dive.

The second dive was shallower and at first I couldn't get past six feet down before the ear pain was unbearable. I ended up going back to the surface to get out, but the boat captain convinced me to try one more time and that time I made it down! And I got another 60 minute dive in. Too bad there wasn't much to see. But I made it up and out alive, and that's what counts. Tomorrow: Captain Marvin and Stingray City!

Live from Treasure Island!

We are on Grand Cayman having our first and only family vacation of 2006. We in this case is made up of Me, Dave, Jessie, my mother and father newly back from Ecuadora dn the Galapagos Islands. Dave is rather newly back from the bachelor party madness in Las Vegas, and he arived home sick as a dog. At the end of a three-day incubation period I, too, had succumbed. Jessie is in school so she will just go from cold to flu to sniffles and back until she hits puberty and I can't tell if she actually has this cold/flu or not.

The flights passed for me in a Dayquil and codeine haze and we spent the first two days here sleeping, relaxing, and lazing with a good dose of napping thrown in. Yesterday the "vacation" began with a visit to the turtle farm followed by a trip to Hell. The stores at Hell were all closed (it was Sunday) so we took a few touristy pictures, admired the two roosters and the lone hen who ran over to greet us (looking for food?), and then mosied back to our condo. Our accommodations are a three-bedroom beachfront condo (third floor). Last year we were on the first floor as hurricane Wilma passed by on her way to Mexico and the waves came up into our room. We are trying to avoid a repeat--it gets dark with plywood over all the patio doors.

Yesterday afternoon we tried a bit of snorkeling but there is some freakish, fine, sea moss in the ater right now that obscured all visibility and covered every inch of our bodies as we emerged from the water. After much swearing and hosing down we managed to remove the moss from our private areas and our suits. Blech. Diving. Today (and every day till next Friday) is slated for diving. Friday we are snorkeling as a family--it will be J's first ocean snorkel trip--and feeding the rays at stingray city. More pics from the trip can be found on Flickr. Tomorrow: the saga of the diving!