Thursday, February 18, 2010

A Cloudy Day, feb 17th 2010


Woke up, (a horrifically late 11am!) and found it was cloudy and I was a full day behind in my blogging.

It’s been two months since Margot passed and in some ways that seems like so very long ago and, in others, it seems like yesterday. Don’t know what has happened to time, it has become unreliable. Had a couple of dreams of Margot and I had to wonder what was up with my subconscious. Dreams of trying to save her, or her leaving me behind on a narrow path, I mean, what the hell is my mind trying to do, isn’t it supposed to be helping me?

If my mind doesn’t start to behave, I’m going to have to tequila it. Hard.

Well, since it was a dull day, only two things to do.

At 8, Steak night. A romantic dinner for one. Bloody rare steak. Red wine. Hold the memories please.

And catch up the blog.

In fact, that involved a whole bunch of things. Learn how to post pictures, figure out how the internet worked here, figure out if I could post vids, organize my pictures so they could be posted, tgry and remember all the amazing things that happened yesterday and get something to eat. I was starving.

My first attempt at the blog failed as all the instructions were in Spanish. What the fuck? However, I guessed where the sign in would be and logged in and changed the language back to English. Whew, lots of weird things could have happened if I had to try and translate. I managed to get some posts done but they took a while to load and the pictures took even longer. I’ll have to talk to Owen when I get back and see if there is a better way( and by ‘better’, I mean faster) cause this was driving me nuts.

Fortunately, I am not the only internetter. Oh, there was a time, not long ago, that I would be the only one with his laptop out but now there were a good two dozen people, all crouched on couches, leaning over their boards and typing or sitting at the small glass-topped table and staring at their screens. Ha! Take that you Frenchmen who sneered at me in Satre. Poo-poo on you. My time has come.

Strangely, I never really felt bad about all the writing I did on vacation. It was fun and I remember hearing the one of my writing heroes, Issiac Asomov used to sit on the beach with his typewriter. I could do a lot worse than be like him.

When the battery ran out, I thought that was a sign to go outside. Not many folks out, the wind a bit cold and rain pattering on the sand. I watched birds skim just above the crest of the waves catching small fish. Very cool, even in the bad weather. Tried to take a picture but had no luck, my ability to zoom hampered rain drops.

Went back inside, got a great coffee from the sports bar and watched some soccer on TV with the rest of the people who wanted to be out in the sun. Not sure who was playing but the color was good and it occupied my mind for twenty minutes or so while I sipped the coffee.

Then I did something very un-Joeish.

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