A Few Days to Rest

It was Christmas night and I heard Santa say, "Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum." Maybe I've got that wrong.

Barb and I went up to Sea Ranch with Robert, Mandy and Adam this past week. It was burly. Landslides, flooded roads, going in the dark, fog and rain trying to make it somewhere I've never been without a map, guided only by the verbalized direction of strangers. Oh, did I mention that in the midst of the ocean spray, howling winds, landslides, dump trucks that there were also cows crossing the road? But when we drug ourselves into the house and ate and drank into the night the morning greeted us with splendor. The west wall of the house was 95% glass and before us in I-MAX form was the Pacific tossing extra foamy waves and froth to and fro, breaking on the crags only a stone's throw away.

We all went out onto the crags and cautiously enjoyed the view. I realized one thing--the ocean is scary. It is not safe. If you were in what we saw you would have no chance. Heck, I'm surprised the fish didn't jump onto shore just to get out of it. So I am changing the saying--"The ocean hath no fury like a woman scorned."

It was a good rest. I watched Sports Center and fell asleep in the recliner with the sun warming me through the I-MAX wall as I read a book I didn't understand. The conversation was good, uplifting and the food was plentiful and so was the coffee and the eggnog. Oh, and the fireplace.

All of this was a gift that was provided for by some people I really admire. I will never forget this past week.