Nora & Her Family
in the Caymans
I'm afraid I have to report another spectacular day. We
didn't do much more than enjoy it.
I wonder if it's the contrast of the dark green of
swaying palms against the sharp blue of the sky that makes
you want to sit down--or stretch out--and do as little as
possible.That, combined with the constant swish of the surf.
I wake to the sound of the water bikes, as usual. The
staff take them out each morning and hook them up along a
line just offshore. Shortly after, the crew from the first
dive boat of the day begin to load tanks. I'd always thought
you were supposed to be pretty careful with compressed air
tanks. Apparently not. They clang them together, load them
onto a rolly cart, then shove them over the sand and toss
them on deck.
I go down to workout. BW comes along today and spends
some time on one of the bikes and the ab machine. I work up
a good sweat in my 30 minutes and feel righteous. Skip
breakfast--BW ends up doing the same as there's something
wrong with the bookstore on line account and he has to spend
some time on the phone with AOL to fix it.
Take a dip, read, take another dip, have a pool-side
lunch. The young boys have been joined by a couple other
young boys.But a mom is watching them today. Quite a
difference. They play--water tag, who can swim faster, and
so on, but whenever they get too loud, or too rowdy, she
shuts them down with a single word.
I finish a book and start on the arc of Marian Keyes's
The Last Chance Saloon. It's great. I always enjoy
her books, but this one's going to be a favorite.
We decide to book another snorkeling cruise for tomorrow.
This one will take us to a reef then to a wreck. Another cat
that goes out for about four hours. We want to check out the
art gallery and more shopping on the other end of the
island. That's for Thursday, probably. If I can write a
couple hours on Friday, that should scratch my itch.
That's as far as we'll plan.
Had a lovely dinner facing the water. Three young
children were allowed the run and shout through the tables
on the terrace. What's with parents? I mean these kids yell,
run, swing through the diners like it's their personal
playground, and their parents ignore it. We're about halfway
through our meal when I've had enough, and go inside to ask
the manager to have a word with them.
Apparently, seeing me get up go inside and stand at the
podium--there are glass doors and tall windows all across
the building--was enough. The kids were brought back to
their table and kept there until the meal was finished.
I love kids, and tend to be very soft and tolerant of
them. It's the parents who annoy me. <g>
Nora
Nora's Cayman
reports are ©
2001 by Nora Roberts & ADWOFF
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