(no subject)

Vacation went well. It was actually the single nicest vacation I've ever taken. Usually by the end I'm done and want to get home. This time I didn't want to leave. The hotel bed was comfortable as hell. The room was quite nice, with a balcony and a view out over the ocean from the 9th floor. There was a comfortable sitting room separated by a window wall complete with blinds so the bedroom could be dark while the other person did stuff.

I woke up before dawn every day to watch the sun rise. It was glorious.

There were storms out on the water, and I saw so much lightning.

I went swimming every single day. I have an excellent tan. I sunscreen-ed myself constantly to protect the tattoo. No one gave me shit when I ripped my shirt off and strode into the water.

I had two drinks, a lot of ice cream and key lime pie, fresh seafood of all kinds and a couple ridiculous room service breakfasts.

I wrote an incredible amount of words during the evenings and when I came in from swimming.

Telemundo was filming for some show while we were there. I got a wink from the starlet who had to wash the sand off her legs about twenty times as they filmed.

I didn't want to come home. I wanted to stay forever in this timeless void, swimming and writing.

The Atlantic is so much warmer than the Pacific, and felt more gentle. Many tiny fish bit my legs and feet. Mike got stung on the thumb by a jellyfish. It was pink.