Friday Morning

7:37am
Breakfast on the patio. Sun rising over the Atlantic -- or rather: over the palm trees and grass dunes which hide the ocean from my view. Still beautiful.

I'm the only one here. There are two people in the restaurant inside. Why be inside on a beautiful morning like this?

The bus leaves at 8:30 for the Everglades tour. I'm wearing the sun-block shirt I bought for my canyon adventure three years ago. I may have worn it two or three times since then. Clearly I have not been doing enough adventuring!

I also have a straw cowboy hat with tilted up sides, a wood-and-silver beaded band, with a turquoise piece in the center -- not my usual style, but *very* Miami. I almost didn't buy it, but it actually looks better on me than the typical round sun hats for women.

I like the Marco Beach site much better than this. It was a more beautiful setting all around -- but it would be churlish to complain about a gift trip to a four diamond hotel and breakfast under palm trees. It's fun to see this place, and I'm looking forward to the Everglades tour.

This afternoon -- or tomorrow -- I'm going to check out the as-seen-on-tv Miami Ink studio, which is just a few blocks from here. Getting a tattoo is unlikely (they probably wouldn't have an opening anyway), but I'm playing with the idea.

Everglades Tour: Short Version

The airboat ride was exhilerating. The native guide was hot -- and fun to talk to. Saw wild crocs, learned some fascinating things about the local tribal culture. Over too soon, but still was worth the entire trip. Must get Wolfling out here someday.

What I Learned About Qabalah Today

It is next to impossible to truly absorb information on the three supernal sephirah while reclining in a comfy round chair on a poolside balcony during the afternoon in Miami.

I tried. I really tried. And it's not like the text was unwelcome assigned reading. I've really been enjoying this book. But divine Understanding and Wisdom -- and their associated angels -- were drowned out by the sun, the parade of people on the street below, and the alcohol-fueled, loud, obnoxious silliness of four tourist girls.

However, the lemonade was excellent, the palm trees there, and the clouds drifted across the sun just often enough to keep it from being brutal.

I'm back in my room now, about to get dressed for the award dinner, which is being held at an as-yet-undisclosed location, one which I've heard was being "done over" today for our event.

Hmmm. . . I wonder if they got the Versace mansion next door? Probably not -- but that would certainly be a trip!

Wall

They had a tango team perform after dinner this evening. They were very good.

And while I was watching, I couldn't stop thinking The one thing we didn't do was ballroom dancing lessons.

Then some of us joined the dancers for a while, and I didn't do very well, and it was after 9pm and the lights were hot, and when it was over I went to the ladies room -- and dissolved in tears. All of the sudden all I could do was hurt.

Fortunately, the tour staff is great, and when I asked the head guy, M, if there was a quiet, private spot I could retreat to, he escorted me out to a bench and kept me company while I explained briefly what was going on, and got myself under control. Then, bless his heart, he offered to drive me back to the hotel early.

So I'm here, alone, in the relative quiet (there's always music playing here), having gotten through another bout of tears. I wish Wolfling was here to snuggle, because I could really use hugs right now.

I wish he was here. In the flesh. I can remember how his arms felt when he held me: how strong and grounding and secure. So full of love and the silent assurance that he was there and would continue to be there.

His spirit abides with me, but gods I miss his embrace.