9:20 am. No matter how many times odd noises wake me during the night, it's all forgotten the next morning. Last night was party night for the young folks, but it was totally-exhausted-and-ready-to-crash-at-nine-o'clock night for me. I managed to last until ten, and I did get some sleep before the party moved from the drunken boat to our boat. But I was too tired for the kids to keep me awake for long.

And I slept (or pretended to) through most of the getting-up circus this morning, until David decided it was time for the traditional final morning's greeting and blasted Robin Williams at full volume. "Good morning, Vietnam!!!" Thanks, David. You got me going today.

After our all-day cruise yesterday, I thought I wouldn't be able to get back on a ski boat, because of an overexposure to sun. But some clouds rolled in, and the little girls decided it would be a good time to go kneeboarding. I went along for the ride. It was a kick. They have very expressive faces and a flair for the dramatic. They seemed to be developing impromptu routines even as they rolled over the wake. They stayed out there for a long time, too, considering their ages (6 and 7) and previous experience (almost none).

11:45 pm. I've been home for a couple of hours now, and as you can imagine, I have about a thousand different emotions (along with about a million things to do).

It was painful to leave the lake. We packed up, took one last quick cruise, then headed south on I-5. The closer I got to home, the more I started thinking about all I had to do, tonight, this week, and for the foreseeable future.

The first thing I saw when I walked in the door was a pile of paper in the fax tray. The first thing I did was check the thirty (30) messages on the answering machine. Downloaded some email, sent a quick note to the notify list, unpacked a few things.

It might be awhile before I catch my breath. But I wouldn't trade the ten days away from all this for anything.