I’m telling you right now you’re all just going to hate this
post. I mean HATE it.
It reflects my day today (Friday) when I should have been
writing this post, but accepted a last minute invitation from a most gracious
friend that I join her and seven other lovely ladies for a sail to the nearby
virginal island of Rhenia, a swim, and lunch aboard her seventy-three foot,
breathtaking yawl.
Let’s weigh the decision: In one corner we have eight ladies
and I aboard a 73 foot sailboat cruising the sapphire and emerald Aegean, and
in the other me in my room facing a computer screen for eight hours all alone
but for 73 cups of coffee.
Sorry folks. To
paraphrase the famous t-shirt, “Jeffrey went to nirvana and all I got were
these lousy photos.”
Yep, but if it’s any consolation I think I may be sunburned.
By the way, I had another blog due to go up tomorrow
(Saturday) on my publisher’s blogsite (Poisoned Pen Press), but I’d written it
before abandoning my computer this morning. It’s all about a poem I’m reading
at the Tinos International Literary Festival next week on the neighboring Cycladic
island of Tinos. So, if you want to see
my words (and poem) they’re there. But
I’ll be here, staring at the photos.
 |
| Yes, that's a helicopter at the stern. |
 |
| Recuperating |
 |
| Bye-Bye Beauty |
Jeff—Sunburned Saturday
Posts
I HATE this post.
ReplyDeleteDo I know my buddies or what!
DeleteThanks for the boat ride, Jeff. At least vicarious travelers don't get sunburnt. Michael, I still haven't forgiven you for the Chassagne. Perhaps, I never will.
ReplyDeleteOh, I forgot to mention, Annamaria, they served a Chassagne 2009. :)
DeleteYes, but that was on the yacht with the helicopter. You can't make me envious that I missed a sailboat ride with seven women and just one man, even if that man is you, Jeff.
DeleteIt was eight women. And oh, I forgot to mention the three hunky male crew members...out of respect for your pitter-patter ticker. :)
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ReplyDeleteYes, Mark, the sea will be here waiting for you. Promise. :)
DeleteWhat was that secret message from Mark? Women of MIE, here is our plot twist! Who can hack the system and find out the secret message (Mission Impossible?) received by Jeff but then deleted by Mark.
DeleteI don't believe it for a moment. You are, after all, a writer of fiction...
ReplyDeletePerfectly understandable, Everett, as I realize how hard it must be for one from the Northern Territories to recognize--let alone accept--sunny skies.
DeleteIt's a tough job, but someone's got to do it... and the only reason I can be generous about it is because in a few days' time I'm heading off to Greece as well (yacht is not in the offing, though...)
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you appreciate all the hard work this involves. Next week, when you're in Hellas, I'll sympathize with you accordingly. Kalo Taxidhi!
DeleteSo here's a plot. A man gets on a boat with seven women called Yrsa, Annamaria, Caro, Cara, Lisa, Zoe etc etc. He disappears. They drink his wine and sail off into the sunset. They spend his money on little black dresses. He is never seen again. He is only remembered by his photographs......
ReplyDeleteAnd the intense smile across his face...
DeleteThe yacht docks in Marseilles. Connections will be made, Louboutin heels purchased...
ReplyDeleteAnd the blood red soles of the Louboutin heels offer the only clue....
DeleteHerve Leger will be pleased.
I'm in, Caro. I have the dress. Will shop for the heels tomorrow. I will bring Chassagne Montrachet. Much as I adore her, PLEASE don't leave the snack purchases to Yrsa.
ReplyDeleteThe prospective victim is becoming a wee bit anxious at all the spontaneous enthusiasm for the project.
DeleteSounds like a plot for a multi-authored book. Each writer could write a chapter. You've got the characters, location, and even their dress and potential murder weapon -- the heels.
ReplyDeleteAnd as they turn in each chapter, Kathy D, they get stomped to death?
DeleteNo Jeff.... It's more like Murder on the Orient Express. The body of the pathetic guy has multiple stiletto heel wounds. Nobody knows who dealt the fatal wound (insert fiendish snigger here). The body has traces of shark meat, snail, haggis, New York Bagel........
ReplyDeleteI get it, Caro, sort of how I feel after a weekend at a Literary Festival where I was the only mystery writer among eighteen poets. :)
DeleteI can't imagine even thinking of murder being on a boat like that in the Greek seas. Just beautiful.
ReplyDeleteIt takes practice, Michael. :)
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