Salt, sand and a riptide. The day was hazy at Jones Field 5. Seagulls, serious and prim, were everywhere, and three tiny sandpipers had flown in from a wilder beach somewhere.
I’m flying to Arizona tomorrow, and will speak at two locales while I’m there. But I hope to get some non-beach relaxing done too. (Probably not outside in the 105 degree furnace of the southwestern climate. But air conditioning is extra delicious in Scottsdale.)
The sheer poundage of books I am bringing might necessitate an extra charge at the airport. But that’s a vacation to me.