bunt sign

Sunday, July 18, 2004

7:30 am. What can I say about last night's dinner? It was wonderful. We untied the houseboat and took it out into the lake, near the dam, which was lit up like a cruise ship. The water was calm, although the wind whipped up in little cooling gusts. The food was good. There were eleven of us (three from the other houseboat). We laughed until it hurt.

Anything else I might say could possibly be taken wrong. Some of us (not me) had a little too much wine, and a few of us (probably not me) might have said or done something that could or should have embarrassed us (that is, them). By this morning, though, all was (more or less) forgotten (as much as possible).

Or maybe we just see some of it in a slightly different light. Anyway, I do believe that most of us are making conscious efforts to turn it into somewhat less of a big deal than it seemed at the time.

How's that for a lot of words with very little information? You can be sure that if I embarrassed myself (and knew about it), I'd share all the important details.

This morning has been covered with clouds, with a few random light showers of warm rain. There's enough blue sky to let the sun poke through every so often, and the heat on our skin gives us every hope of another brilliant day on the lake. And there's no reason to think it won't end well.

1:45 pm. I know I'm on vacation. I even know it's Sunday. (What calendar?) I didn't know I'd feel even lazier today than I have at any time since I got here. It's not the heat, because it's only really hot for a few minutes at a time, when the sun shines directly on us. The clouds are still here, and there's even an occasional breeze to keep us cool.

It's muggy, though, and I think it might have been a little too humid last night for me to sleep as well as usual (up here; you know how badly I sleep at home). I've been sitting in a deck chair, sort of trying (but not very hard) to keep my eyes open. I could use a nap, but it's hard to sleep when I just lie down. Better to let my head loll around while I'm sitting in a chair, I guess.

7:30 pm. Rick and Shirley are on their way home now. We took them back to the marina and exchanged sad goodbyes with them this afternoon. Now there are only six of us left on the houseboat — John and Suzanne, Eric, Mike and Debbie, and me. It's a big boat, but it suddenly seems even bigger (and much quieter). It's been a long, hot afternoon, kind of melancholy for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I'm going home tomorrow.

Even those who are staying until next Sunday are feeling some different emotions. It's too bad Tammy and David won't make it up here, even for a couple of days. That would cheer everyone up, especially since they'd be bringing Aiden along. Some things don't work out the way we hope, and nothing we can do or say, no matter how sincere or well-intentioned, can make them better.

18 July 2004

Attitude Adjustment.

But tomorrow will be another sunny day, and we'll be surrounded by the magnificent natural beauty of this country. If we need consolation, that should help.

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