Not Slappin the Monkey

Back to work this morning, been gone for two weeks.

I know it was a vacation and I shouldn't complain, so I won't

For the better part of the past two weeks, Tate has been spoiling me rotten

The beach house, the food, OMG the food: The crabmeat and rockfish and shrimp and the sushi, then the wine and bloody mary's

never mind

Oh the walks on the sand, barefoot in the ocean edge

The tower, the fourth floor of the enormous house on stilts with the 180 degree ocean view

I finished my novel, the same one I have been attempting to finish reading since October

Reading about Anne Boleyn in the tower; in the tower
I did have a fever the majority of the time, but it was one of those low grade things that just made me wish I felt 100 percent, and would spike up as I slept

And I slept, and I slept, and I slept

This morning, back to the old routine: Up early, coffee,make bed, laundry, dishes, dress,Bowflex,bathe, tarot reading, record the dream, animal rotation, prepare mail for mailing, practice fiddle, get to work LATE
but not too late this morning, only a minute or so...

I open the door to the 100 sq. foot shop with exposed beams in the ceiling and hardwood floors and twinkly retail jewelry and the Christmas Poinsettia Tate brought me before we went away.

"Hi Shoppy" I shout out in my best falsetto sing song voice as I walk through the door.
really
and then I even made fun of myself and called me PeeWee Herman
who wouldn't?