Tomorrow I throw all sanity to the Mistral winds and go sailing in the Mediterranean.
That excursion sounds nice, but only to someone who wasn’t savagely injured the last and only time they were on a boat 15 years ago. (Okay, maybe “savagely” is a bit strong, as I didn’t lose any limbs, but I was pretty badly hurt and the pain didn’t go away for about a year until I was treated for a month by a chiropractor.)
Hopefully I won’t have to worry about anything more than wearing enough sunscreen. The Frenchman has been alerted that I do not like boats as a result but that I’m willing to give anything a second try. Especially if the Mediterranean is involved. I’m leaving the camera at home as I don’t want to worry about anything but me getting wet.
Yesterday, I was having lunch with Special K and we spotted tourists with a dog covered in black and brown dread locks. It had so many of these nasty ropes hanging in its doggy face that we couldn’t even see what breed it was. Clearly it must have been a Rasta Beagle or something they don’t grow in L.A. because of fire hazards.
Right. Back to whatever it was.