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You are excited and you can’t wait to tell the people in your house. And then you remember, you are alone.

And it’s then that you first realize and remember.

How much you actually hate being alone.

An hour or two is fine if you need it, but otherwise you feel restless. The day alone doesn’t feel as much like a gift as it should, or may for some people. You want to be productive to make the time pass, you want to move forward to get to later. When it’s done, when it is closer to tomorrow, when you will go back to work, and then will get to pick up your daughter for the week. So even if your husband is still in Texas at a conference, at least the house won’t be empty anymore. You’ll have someone tugging on your arm again, “Mama, can I watch tv?” “Mama, I am hungry, can i have an apple?” “Mama…..” And part of you will wish for a moment of quiet, of concentration. But you’ll find it is easier to concentrate in the midst of your home’s usual chaos than during the entire day alone.

Now the end of your day has come and all that needs to happen is to shut the laptop, turn off the light and climb into bed alone…but with the coming of spring the bedroom window is open and the rushing brook across the street will help lull you to sleep. And maybe you won’t notice the empty bed as much. And you won’t think about being alone.

Because you hate it.

And that’s ok.

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March 31, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

We were saying our goodbyes, my friend ML and I, after lunch, about to head back to our respective offices. I thanked her for trusting me. Her eyes were serious for a moment and she said, “Thank you for not judging me.” I was stunned, as if I’d do that. I smiled and said, “That is the easy part.”

Today, after three weeks of not knowing what happened to ML’s partner, cialis in canada over the counter I finally found out what happened. Her voice was soft spoken as she told me, both from the seriousness of the subject and because we were in the staff dining room.

And you know what, if it was me, I wouldn’t have known, either. Although ML knew that years before they had met, he had been an alcoholic and drug addict, he was long in recovery. He went to meetings regularly. What ML didn’t know until recently that during a few weeks then they had been separated in the fall he had gotten drunk. What she had no idea about was that he had relapsed into drug use. Until his mother called to tell ML that she had found him, dead, with a hypothermic needle. He had gone to visit his mother and brother for the weekend, was on his way back here, had his bag packed and was just, uh, getting ready for the ride home. And overdosed. ML said they didn’t have the toxicology report back, so she didn’t know exactly what he had used.

But I am not sure it matters or she really cares.

I asked her what the hardest part was for her now. “Letting go of the questions I’ll never have answers to,” she replied. I nodded. “And feeling torn between being really really angry at him and missing him more than I can say.”

What could I say?

“And sometimes”, she continued, “I am not sure how I am even going to get out of bed in the morning, let alone take care of my daughter, let alone figure it all out…”

She sighed and we ate in silence for a few moments. All I could do was be witness.

I asked if I could do anything. She smiled slightly. Lil moonspun and I had spent several hours at her house, which she is selling, last weekend helping to purge it. Lil m and I had spent time with her daughter helping her purge some of her toys. She said if we wanted to come back to the house again next weekend, she wouldn’t say no. I promised this time I’d bring RP, too.

And so it goes, me wondering again why some people have such enormous challenges in front of them, when I live in my relatively safe world. But all I can do is appreciate what I have and do some small things to help a friend heal. Knowing I can never really do anything to take away her confusion and her pain.

But it’s something anyway.

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March 30, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

I decided to go on vacation and just say “the hell with it” and so I tagged along with my friend, Coco at Mommyhood and Life to take in some sunshine with her.

Ok, not really. She deserves some time alone with her family and I hope she is rockin’ that vacation! What I ACTUALLY did was spew my crappy feelings on her blog in a guest post. And she let me, wasn’t that nice?

I am nearly blushing at the nice things she said about me. I adore Coco and can’t wait to actually meet her someday…which we will, damnit! Oh yes, we will.

So go check it out…. I, on the other hand, have more stuff to do than I’d like to acknowledge. But at least there is chocolate and family at the end of the week!

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March 27, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

There are a number of blogs that I websites I visit or blogs that I read because I get them. I have had similar experiences, I think I might be like someone (or secretly want to be like them), or I have a hint of what they are going through. And other places I go to, I can’t relate at all.

One of those is cheapest cialis generic online If you have not been, you must visit. It is a site that was started by how to buy cialis online usa . Maggie is an incredbily poignant writer and Violence UnSilenced is a stunning, admirable safe space that was created for those who have experienced domestic violence and sexual assault. It gives them a voice. Simply and powerfully.

I have felt a range of emotions while reading it—anger, shock, gut-wrenching sadness, hope and despair. And, guiltily, relief. Which seems wrong, but I have to be honest and admit that. I have been blessed, thus far, with a very quiet, safe life. I have never had anything violent happen to me, and certainly nothing compared to rape, sexual assault or repeated sexual abuse. My heart hurts for those who share their stories, but it cannot relate.

A few months before FFO and I became a couple, she was living with a college friend of hers and my sisters. Their friends father raped her while no one else was home. And she took him to trial. I remember clearly sitting in the courtroom the day she testified, the defense judge showing pictures of all the “escape” routes in the house and trying to point out she could have left but didn’t, insinuating that it was consensual. I also remember the judge (there was no jury, the defendant had asked for a judge’s ruling thinking he’d be less sympathetic) sternly dressing down the defense attorney for a) getting too close to the witness stand and b) for trying to make FFO look like a slut because she didn’t have underwear on. He had no patience for that kind of questioning, which was a relief.

I also remember the day the decision came down and we sat in the courtroom while the judge pronounced the man guilty, and sentenced him to two years in jail. He had walked into the building free that morning and left that court room in handcuffs. I know it took courage for FFO to go through the experience, but she did. And yet, even him paying with a jail sentence doesn’t change the damage.

And so, while I don’t share in the experience of their stories, I read Violence UnSilenced because I want to a witness to the brave and an ear for the voices. Even though I don’t always know what to say, I want those who share their stories to know that someone is listening. I need to be reminded of my blessings and even if some of the stories are hard to read, that’s ok. If sharing the stories is part of the solution and part of the change, then reading and commenting must have some small ripple effect, too, right?

I think so, anyway.

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March 24, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

So in my update on our spring break trip to the farm, I mentioned there were a few of the students, well 3 in particular that if I never saw again I’d be fine. It’s not that I didn’t like them, it’s that I felt decidedly ‘blah’ about them and the way they acted and the way they treated the group. They weren’t bad “kids” but we didn’t click. That’s fine, that’s life.

So of course the college generation relies heavily on social media and Facebook to communicate and in an entirely different way or for different reasons than my generation. The students all got amused looks on their faces when I explained for people of my age Facebook was a great tool for finding people that we have been out of touch with for 20+ years. Which is, of course, older than some of them were.

So that’s all good. I expected a few friend requests from some of the students and was honestly, thrilled to see them. Especially with the ones I felt more connected to. I did not expect the friend request from the student whom I felt least connected to and least impressed by.

Now that is where the politics come in…because honestly I would look like a complete asshole if I ignored the request of the one student who I didn’t really want to be friends with. I am pretty picky about who I friend on Facebook, I want it to be a safe space for me, so I can be—me. So I decided to accept the friend request and just wait a few weeks until I felt it was ok to unfriend her. But that’s just weird to think about.

And you know in life how things have happened to you that you feel blah about? Like they were people you knew that you’d just as soon forget, not because something horrible happened, but just because it’s better?

In high school I was in this organization called Junior Achievement, for a year, I think. It was some young business thing and I have no idea how I got involved, but I don’t remember liking it very much. It was about business and networking and let’s face it, even now those are things I am not good at or could care less about. There was a guy named Steve in the group who really liked me. He lived in the next town over and would ride his bike to my house. As I was telling RP, he was a fine person, and part of me wanted to like him, because let’s face it, not a lot of boys had crushes on me. But I tried and I couldn’t. There was just something a bit creepy about him. I did go on one date with him between my first and second year of college, just to shut him up. All I remember is feeling itchy and wanting the night to be over. I think he got the hint after that and I never heard from him again.

Until I got a message via Facebook from him. (Oh I feel itchy again!). Now this is someone who literally has not crossed my mind in 20 years. And there I was on my laptop reading a message asking if I was the Moonspun who had been in Junior achievement and played the saxophone. I think RP thought something was wrong with me because I just kept saying ‘ohmygodohmygodohmygod’ as I looked at his picture (he got fat and ugly) and read the message. I waited a day and replied back simply that yes, that was me and that I hadn’t thought that was a good experience in my life and that was all. And then I thought I would get a friend request and have to ignore him. So I did what I have only done to one other person (lil moonspun’s biological father), I blocked him from finding me or contacting me. I had to. I just couldn’t go back there, sometimes memory lanes aren’t worth opening and should stay closed.

I do enjoy being on Facebook, heck my dad is even on it now! But I guess it’s like everything else online, including my blog. It really needs to be a balance of what works for me. Otherwise, it is not worth it.

Any good recent Facebook stories in your life?

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March 22, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

The first few times we headed out of the warm buildings to do the farm chores, it was raining. Hard. And it was windy.So the rain was sideways. Oh and sometimes the rain was actually sleet. The ground was muddy and it was cold.

But the group of 11 students on our Alternative Spring Break trip never complained. They donned mudboots, layers of jackets and dragged hay bales, grain and water to the animals. There were sheep, goats, llamas, alpacas, chickens, heritage breed cows, yaks and a camel named Abu. Oh and a 30+ year old donkey named Chester.

The sun eventually came out and our last several days on the break were lovely, and by the time we helped out with a brush clearing service project on Thursday afternoon we had removed many layers, just not the mud boots.

Although I’ll be writing a story for the University website on the trip, I find myself at a loss to sum up neatly an entire week’s intense experience. I lived in a bunkroom with 8 women college students. Sat for hours in activities and educational forums with our group of 13. RP and I did farm chores together. Sometimes I felt such joy, other times surprise at what we learned about the lack of food security and resources around the world. Sometimes I felt hopeless, other time experience. Sometimes the group stunned me by their thoughtfulness, other times I wanted to scream at how selfish they were. Sometimes I felt energized, other times exhausted because I was NOT only academic spring break and thus our breaks from our farm activities were only times for me to sneak in military history work.Sometimes I couldn’t sleep at night because RP’s arm wasn’t around me and all I wanted to do was sneak into his bunk bed and snuggle, other times I was so worn that I felt I could sleep standing up.

In the end, though, I wound up being changed. I feed animals I’d never really known much about, I saw a lamb being born, I held baby goats. I wound up learning things about myself, like how shitty I feel and how cranky I can get without protein in my diet. I wound up getting to know more students. Some whom I will be all right if I never see again, others whom I miss already. I learned things to pass on to my family, my friends, my daughters.

And once again, I found myself grateful for all that I do have. My cozy, heated home, and plenty of food and resources to more than fill my basic needs.

That, I think, was the point.

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March 19, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

Now we have a story from Photomonk, a good friend of mine from college. Sometimes it amazes me that I have known her for nearly 25 years! Photomonk is passionate about a number of things–folk music, photography (have taken pictures at both my weddings) and whales. You can find her online at one of her blogs, cialis generic order . I often wish I didn’t get so darn seasick so I could go with her sometime on one of her adventures!

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When Moonspun asked me to submit a guest post for her blog, I was definitely honored to be asked. And then, I found I had to wrack my brain around her suggested post themes. I never did anything terribly interesting or fun for spring break. Haven’t been a notable volunteer for much. I live near farms but have never worked on one.

So I am going to stretch a little and relay a time from when I was in college, the summer of 1988. I got a grant from my college (same one as Moon’s) to do an internship with a group called the Project on Women and Disability. Since I had a grant it was not a volunteer gig, strictly speaking, but for them it was “free” help.

The Project was based in the MA state office of (then called) Handicapped Affairs. I grew up with a mild/moderate hearing loss, diagnosed at age 6, but had never been exposed on any sort of “large” scale to others with disabilities or the politics of disability. Prior to that summer, I used to wear my hair long enough to cover my ears. I didn’t wear my hearing aids often, mostly being able to manage with the hearing that I have, and I was admittedly a bit intimidated by them. I didn’t at all like the extra noise I heard when they were in use (how do you hearing people stand all of that extraneous stuff??) and I was never taught how to answer people who challenged me about the aids.

Then came the summer of 1988. Suddenly, I am surrounded by people with all sorts of disabilities, all strong and independent and empowered. It was like someone turned the light on. I gained enormous self confidence and self empowerment. By the end of the summer, I started wearing a hair cut that clearly exposed my ears. When I wore my aids, they were VISIBLE.

While there, I was drawn into a project with some other staff in the office, trying to assess the accessibility of the public transit system. It was *supposed* to be accessible, but there was not a lot of accountability for that at the time. I was very green and young (not quite 20).

The adventure started with a trip up 128 to pick up the rental van. I was tagged to come along because it was not known if the van would be equipped with hand controls for someone who uses a wheelchair. It was, but I still wound up driving it back because the two others had just started dating so were keen to have some time to themselves. Oh and to make it more fun, we were told that the engine was brand new and could not be driven faster than 50 MPH for the next 50 miles or it might catch fire. My colleagues were so into each other that they kinda kept forgetting they were leading me back to the city. I remember driving down 128 at 49.5 MPH just trying to keep them in sight because I had no idea where to go.

My next job on this adventure was to drive people to various bus stops along advertised accessible lines, and then pick them up again farther along the route. Mind you, this was before cell phones, before GPS. No one thought to ask if I knew my way around (I didn’t) or to leave me any maps. I remember one route where I was supposed to go from Cambridge to Lexington. I was alone in the van, and I got lost about 1 block into the trip. All I can remember is cursing and driving through the Massachusetts countryside without the slightest clue where I was or where I was to be going. I actually managed to get some competent directions from a couple of gas stations, and finally pulled into Lexington, certain the people would be annoyed at my tardiness. As it turned out, I pulled in only about 5 minutes after they did, and they were so excited by the problems they found that they hadn’t noticed that wait. I was quite glad, then, for someone else to take the wheel and drive us home!

I know this was a bit of a long story, and it’s time to get to the point. My point is this: I went way out of my comfort zone to do this internship, and it changed my life. I haven’t been quite so bold since, I’m afraid, but I get the value and power of doing things like this. Hopefully I will be able to challenge myself again like this one day. I’m looking forward to tales that Moonspun and RP might tell after their current adventure

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March 17, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

If you’ve been around my blog for a while, you may have read my post in January 2009 about cialis people arrested and now dear friend. I keep in touch with Adam via e-mail and the ever popular Facebook. Adam is witty, insightful, a hard worker, a father of three and grandfather of one. When he recently started his own blog, I eagerly went and made a comment. As Moonspun. And inadvertently revealed myself and this space thus violating lines I created for myself regarding who in my real life knew about my blog. And found I was ok with that. Enough so that when it came time to gather some guest posts for my week away, I asked him and he graciously obliged.

After reading Adam’s wonderful insights below be sure to check out his blog, Stop Having to Make Lemonade and become a follower!

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First, I’m honored to have the opportunity to share with you private insight from my life’s journey. Moonspun and I have a history that dates back into our teenage years and I revel in the fact she is a lifelong friend.

No matter what consumes us from day to day – be it our job, family, school…I believe we all have moments where thoughts of goodness fill our hearts and minds. It could be a hectic day at the office and you hear a co-worker’s Dad died of a heart attack the night prior. What’s the first thing that runs through your mind? I’m guessing something to the effect of “I really need to get them a card and call/see if there’s anything I can do.” You’re packed into a bus or train on the way to the office and hear someone near you chatting it up about a cool hiking expedition they just came back from…you might think “gee, I really want to get out and hike/camp more.” Reading a magazine in a doctor’s waiting room (OK – in reality you could read “War and Peace” before you actually get back to SEE the doctor!) and the 3 year old edition of Popular Mechanics talks about how incredible it is to build scale motorized boats with your kids. I personally would take that one to heart and realize I could do that with my son one weekend. I could dovetail that into a family outing to see the Grandparents as well so we could race that boat on their lake and enjoy the added benefit of multi-generational family time.

Point being, we all have things we “want” to do. More importantly we all have things we “should” be doing. What seems to happen during the hustle and bustle of today’s society is that these once more common niceties of life have fallen victim to the stressors of the routines we’ve developed and become accustomed to. It’s the impulsive moments of warmth I’m looking for us to harness…at least to start with.

I’ve had the fortunate (and sometimes unfortunate,) experience over the last 16 years as a hospice nurse to witness first-hand people’s accounts of things they “wish” they had done. This wasn’t just from the dying patient’s perspective, but equally from their family’s perspective as well. Having that intimate station where someone’s journey is coming to an end…well, you see and hear a lot. Surprisingly the wish lists aren’t stereotypical “bucket lists” by any means, but rather a wide array of simple tasks and conversations. The patients often want to mend relationship fences while the family members many times talk about finally completing home improvements or having all of the family gather more often – not just as the death of a loved one nears.

The simple lesson I personally glean from my work is to “act quickly but within means” on those wonderful thoughts that appear if not just for a second on our heart’s radar. To try and accomplish the grandiose goals we’d “like” to do leads often to utter disappointment. Sounds simple? No way! It’s an incredible effort – at least for me anyway. I will share one quick example. I heard this morning that a dear friend of mine’s sister had a baby a few days ago. The new mother had babysat my younger kids one summer and was very loving to them. My first instinct was to get a cute bear, a card, wrap it up and send it out to Oklahoma where they now live. As the minutes passed from the initial thought, I realized there was no way I would ever (with my busy schedule the next couple days,) ever get that together in time. My dear friend was leaving to see her sister the next day by car and I wouldn’t be able to make it happen. So what did I do? I called! The new mom answered her cell phone immediately and couldn’t wait to tell me all the wonderful things about her new son. I kept the conversation short naturally as I could hear the new little angel starting to fuss in the background. But that literal 1 minute and 58 seconds of sharing I know meant the world to her…and to me too. Weeks from now would have been too late. It just wouldn’t be the same even though the thought/intent was there. The story has an even happier footnote! While I was typing this, my cell phone beeped and I have a picture of this new cherub to look at now! Talk about making my day.

Sooner will always avoid “too late.” We’re bombarded with stimulus in our lives every waking moment. Easier said than done – but I feel we need to act on those happy little impulses we receive in the course of our daily routines. Sharing a little happiness goes a long way. It doesn’t have to be anything extravagant, even though by nature we want to. The unexpected benefit for me is how happy “I” feel afterwards. Almost makes the fulfillment seem a little selfish? But I’ll take it! You should too. Be good to yourselves and others.

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March 16, 2010 By: Moonspun Category: cialis online rating

I am quite thrilled to have a guest post from low cost cialis soft . Like many of my woman friends, blogging and otherwise, she is poignantly witty, badass, opinionated and just plain real. I admire her gumption, her writing style, her openness….and while she lives on the other side of the country she is someone I am determined to meet someday. (In fact I do think Mumma Boo and Coco and I have a bra-shopping date, right ladies?) If you don’t read her blog, you should. And Coco was kind enough to share a wonderful story with us…..

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Moving across the ocean to Australia when I was perched on the cusp of entering High School proved to be one of the least successful ideas my poor mother had ever conceived. I loved my friends and I loved our little blue house on our wide suburban street, and I hated her for making me move away from everything I held dear. If I had been much younger, or a couple of years older, it probably wouldn’t have been so bad, but at 14, it seemed like the Worst Thing That Had Ever Happened To Anyone In The History of Mankind And Possibly The Dinosaurs As Well.

The point of this post (lucky for you, O Moonspun’s Internet), however, is not to explain in excruciating detail why I equated a move to a different country to, say, the Black Plague. For all the misery I felt slowly crushing my fragile little soul into blackness there, some wonderful things did happen. The Australia I experienced was a study in paradoxes – full of hardness and dust and a patriarchy that made the U.S. seem positively Utopian at times, but like a fierce goddess, she also held some lovely secrets that made me gasp in wonder. I remember walking to school for the first time there. I crossed a large park on the way, and a giant flock of wild pink-and-grey parrots called Galahs took wing around me, calling noisily and joyfully, and dancing into the sky. My home state of Colorado had a lot of lovely things, but wild parrots were not among them. It was like I’d fallen into an alternate universe inhabited by the Fae.

One of my very fondest memories comes from a family vacation we took with my Uncle Dean, my two cousins Ian and Peter, my mom, my brother and me. From Perth we drove northward through vast swathes of rural country. Australia is still very wild in many places, and sometimes we would go hours and hours without seeing a single other car. My Uncle Dean is one of my very favorite people in the world, and I drove with him most of the way. To entertain ourselves we made up silly stories, fake commercials, and songs. I remarked that the countryside, full of exotic looking trees and shimmering with heat, seemed like Africa to me. We cracked each other up by screeching “Afriiiiiiica!” at random moments, which will seem completely stupid unless you happened to be there. Kind of like yelling “Ni!” at people who hate Monty Python.

Our destination was a remote corner of the continent called Monkey Mia. It is one of the few places in the world where wild dolphins regularly seek out contact with humans. If you Google it now, of course, you will see that it sports a resort and little shops and you can even fly there. In 1984, one’s options were rather more limited. The Dolphin Information Center was there, and a lovely beach, but when I tell you it was in the sticks, my darlings, I mean the ass-end of the sticks.

After what seemed like ten thousand kilometers (let’s get into the Aussie spirit here, after all) of sucking lung-coating red dust down what were laughably called roads, we checked into a caravan park (that’s more fancy Down-Under lingo for RV Park, fellow Americanos – the really funny thing was you didn’t have to bring your own RV. They rented them to you there. Why not just build a hotel, you ask? I have no idea.) near Monkey Mia just as twilight was descending upon the landscape and collapsed, filthy, dusty and exhausted, into lumpy RV beds that smelled faintly of the sea.

In the morning, the reward for our trek was revealed in the treasure awaiting us at the beach. Even then, at its most remote, Monkey Mia attracted lots of visitors, but it was still sparsely populated enough that there was only a couple of area rangers (sorry, fancy lingo has deserted me here) to give us the basics. Offer the dolphins fish, but if they give it back, it’s a gift to you and they will get offended if you keep trying to give it back. Do not lurch about, scream, or splash. Do not grab the dolphins. Right then, off you go.

We bought a bucket of fish and my cousins, my brother and I gingerly inched our way into the water. That part of the beach actually wasn’t all that lovely. The water was murky with fish oil, suntan lotion, and churned up sand. Pelicans and seagulls loitered about like feathered hooligans, waiting to bully smaller children out of any fish gifted back to them by the dolphins. The sand, though scrupulously free of trash, was littered with footprints and fish bits and pelican poo and tourists. Somehow, though, none of that mattered when I got about hip-deep, holding out a fish in one shaking hand as a large dolphin with a little chunk out of its dorsal fin made its way over to me.

He (the ranger called out that my new friend was, indeed, a he) rolled gently to one side to inspect me with a bright, curious eye. I wanted to stroke his sleek, shiny skin but we had been expressly warned against this, so I simply waited, holding my breath, as he accepted my fish. After a moment of nosing it around, he let it go near my hand. I took it back as instructed. The dolphin and I regarded each other for a few more magical moments, as he lolled near me, and then he seemingly lost interest and moved back away from the beach. One or two more dolphins came near, but none seemed interested in eating, and then our turn in the water ended. My poor cousin Peter got ambushed by a pelican (hey, I kept yelling at him to just drop the fish) and had to be rescued by Uncle Dean. This soured the entire experience for him, and my mom took him and my brother for ice cream at the snack shack nearby.

“C’mon guys, let’s go down the beach a ways,” Uncle Dean said to me and Ian. You couldn’t swim in the dolphin area (and really – ew – who would want to?) but about 50 feet down there was just open beach. We put on our snorkel gear and headed in. I have an absolute phobia about deep water – I always have, and Jaws only made it worse, but this water was calm and gentle. I had read that sharks didn’t like water where dolphins frequented, and I trusted my Uncle.

Further out, a large kelp patch replaced the open water, and I skirted it anxiously, but I was enjoying the way the sun dappled in around it, and the kelp waved in the gentle current, to and fro, to and fro. There were bright, fearless fish darting among it and they would swim right up to your mask sometimes, nibbling, staring, darting back in. I floated along the edges of the kelp forest, content with the fish and the sun and the dreamy rocking of the quiet sea. I spied my Uncle and cousin a short distance away, and felt safe and comfortable.

Suddenly, a flash of something large and gray raced past my left side. In my peripheral vision, I couldn’t make out what it was, only that it was big. And fast. And way too close to me. I forgot that we were near the dolphins. I forgot the safe feeling. I panicked, inhaled a lungful of ocean, and flailed helplessly. I caught a flipper in the edge of the kelp and I had a horrible, vivid image of drowning and being eaten by a shark mere feet from my family. Turning to face my killer, I found that the big dolphin with the notched fin from before was catching fish a few feet away with a couple of podmates.

I kicked free of the kelp and shot to the surface to expel my briny drink with much coughing and hacking. Then I submerged my face again to watch the show. The dolphins were graceful, slick, determined predators. After a few moments, I saw uncle Dean had joined me, Ian having abandoned the sea for the lure of the sand and its castle-making properties, and we two followed the stealthy work of the little band for about another 15 minutes. Before they disappeared with a ghostly speed, the three circled us briefly, looking happy, curious, wild. The big male glanced about us, not touching, just being flashy, and letting us know who was boss there. I wonder still what they thought of us, the awkward intruders in their world, but the magic of that day will never fade.

Someday, I hope to go back, to that faerie place and the ones nearby, like Shell Beach (one of only two like it in the world, lovers). I dream sometimes of the waving kelp, and the sun and sand, and the pelican chasing Peter down the beach.

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