Three sleeps...

One of the most disconcerting things about a one week vacation is that people start thinking about it ending long before it ends.

At dinner tonight, one of our number said, 'only two more days'...alas.

The thing is, there are two reasons I don't think like that: I'm no good at linear time and have to think real hard to figure out how many days are left and,  every wonderful day here means I'm one day closer to getting home to my Puli.

It is embarrassing to admit how much I miss our dog. I haven't had a good night's sleep because when I wake up at home, I reach over and rub him and go back to sleep. (Sleep with me, sleep with my dog....) Here, he's not there to rub.

John and Bern and I have been talking about coming for two weeks next fall. The only thing that remains to work out is bringing Bela. It would involve drugging him to the gills, finding a pet friendly motel somewhere in the middle of Virginia and actually committing to what would be required to bring that awful dog we love so much.

When our children were small, we never came for less than three weeks--a couple of times for a month.

That kind of time at the ocean puts you in touch with the deep down rhythms of human beings. You start going to bed earlier and getting up earlier. You lose track of what day it is (I do that because of age now, so being at the ocean for a month would completely un-stick me in time. You eat when you are hungry instead of at 'meal times'. You begin to roll like the ocean.

One reason I'm glad I don't live on a beach by an ocean is that I fear I'd come to take it for granted and not notice anymore how healing the waters' rolling truly is.

Two more glorious days, two days of travel with  people I love. And then I'll go get Bela!

All that sounds great to me....