Off on another adventure tomorrow, with two Black Labbies along for the gallop. Destination: Ocracoke Island, a silent place on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, a place accessible only by ferry, where the pirate Blackbeard hid his ships in not-easy-to-navigate inlets so he could count his dough and figure out his next move. It is said that a visit to the island brings on the "OcraComa," a disease where one forgets the day and time.
It's been a busy few months. Lots of programming and consulting going on. I am looking forward to camping next to a dune of sand, a quiet place where one only has to walk a short way to be on the beach. Labbie Marg has recovered for now, and Walt is still Jerry Lewis in a Dog Suit, and they will swim in the Atlantic and bark at seagulls and sandpipers, and use their Labbie charms to weasel snacks from fellow campers.
My friend Phyll gave me a quote the other day:
"A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for." - Shedd
It has been a time of not much travel and too little writing, a week where The Mighty Bug was rear-ended by a GMC Jimmy, and is soon to go to The Beetle Hospital for repairs. In the last few days I helped place the ashes of a dear friend in the Potomac River after her very long bout with cancer. A reminder comes through loud and clear: Adventures are life blood. You are still here. Don't wait.
So off we go tomorrow, the canines and I, to see what is south, and to remember what is real.
PHOTO: Wall Mural, Coffee Shop, Asheville, North Carolina