So…here in Barbados sometimes all that can be managed for dinner is cold cereal because, well, because it is cold. And the cold is needed to counteract the hot. And how does this differ from a Maria dinner stateside you might ask? Well, there’s no Count Chocula to be found here for one thing…

Once Bill leaves each morning I am struck by the vast space of time I have before me and never having experienced such a phenomenon before, it can be overwhelming.  There may be an hour or two of errands and chores on the horizon, but unlike a Fulbright scholar that has probably known what they would do for the rest of their lives when they were 6 with time charts and leather-bound  agendas with schedules and dates and times to plot their course, find I am polishing up my (already quite adept) floundering skills. Unlike writing that first word in a new Moleskin (also pretty daunting!), a span of time like this screams, “Grand Exploit! World Changing Event Creation! Meaningful Action!” (etc. etc.) Now I can imagine there are those of you out there (Many? All?) that at this point want nothing more than to send me off in a scarlet outfit to Pamplona under the misguided notion that I am complaining. I’m really not. It just so happens it takes me a looooong time to fully examine my gift horse, thoroughly check all his teeth, ponder over his name (and his mane?) and ruminate on how best to keep him happy all before actually contemplating taking him out for a ride. I’m not just looking in his mouth! What do you take me for anyway, an ingrate? Hmmmpph!