Panama City Beach

Before sending the Texas grandkids on a plane home we had one last hurrah at tourist-y Panama City Beach.

We strolled out on the pier and watched the ocean do its beautiful thing.

I asked a stranger to take a photo of the three of us:

We visited Ron Jon surf shop:

Then we had lunch at Dick's Last Resort where the wait staff is rude on purpose. These hats made great souvenirs and Jackson wore his until we got to the airport.

But they'll still take a photo of you if you ask politely:

After lunch we played a laser game that revealed my extreme lack of ninja skills. We shot zombies in a 3D shooting game that revealed my extreme lack of zombie hunting skills. Finally we ate ice cream at which I excelled. No photos, so you'll just have to take my word for all of the above.

All too soon it was time to send the kids home. Notice Jackson's travel pillow. It's all he really wanted as we shopped today.

Their dad texted to let me know they arrived safely in Dallas at almost the same time I arrived home to Doright Manor. I'll sleep well tonight–and late in the morning.

Peace, people!

Found at Sea

Love, come sail with me
To the edge of the known world
Where sea and sky kiss

We’ll find our true selves
‘Neath cerulean heavens
Far from earth’s safe shores

I’ll be your lighthouse
Your compass’s truest north
You’ll be my anchor.

Photographic inspiration by Suzanne Balding

In the Middle of the Night

I caught Studly Doright’s cold on our last day of vacation. We arrived safely home to Doright Manor around 3:30 p.m. I took a dose of my favorite nighttime cold medicine and went straight to bed. Yay Tylenol! I slept twelve hours straight through.

Studly wisely slept in one of the guest rooms. I can hear his muffled snores echoing through the hall. From a distance they provide a soothing backdrop. The key word there is “distance.”

I took a second dose of medicine, and hope to drift away soon. I still have some good vacation stories to write and will do so when I’m feeling better. In the meantime here are some random vacation photos. 

Peace, people.


Swim if you will with mermaids three, Barbara, Irena, and finally me.

We swim together in the warmest seas, as the scent of salt air floats in the breeze.

Our tails undulate in time with the waves, while we frolic and sing all of the day.

Fish bubble our names and swim by our sides, slips of bright scales into the tide.

Alas at day’s end our tails start to shrink, and legs sprout anew, shiny and pink.

Then off we go to our respective lives to masquerade quietly as respectable wives.


Apalachicola Art Walk

Saturday morning I had no idea I’d be sipping a beer at noon at a corner cafe in the small port town of Apalachicola. Having had the most luxurious night of sleep I’ve experienced in years, I lingered in bed feeling as if I’d been kissed by an angel. 

Of course, it was probably only Studly Doright who’d pecked me on the brow on his way to the golf course. I guess his grey hair was halo-like in the semidarkness, but you never know.

Before showering I looked on Facebook and read a post about an art walk in Apalachicola. Knowing that Studly would be tied up with his favorite hobby well into the afternoon I made haste with my shower and got on the road.

I’ve written about Apalachicola before. The quaint fishing village on Florida’s forgotten coast is known for oysters and sponges and apparently, art. 

I snapped a few photos as I walked about town:

I even purchased a photograph (below) by and directly from photojournalist Richard Bickel whose work has appeared in National Geographic Traveler, Conde Naste Traveler, Newsweek, and other publications of note. It makes me happy.

After a lunch of salmon and grapefruit salad (oddly wonderful) at Tamara’s Cafe, I drove across the bridge to Eastpoint and then crossed another bridge for my first taste of the beach this year on Saint George Island.

Studly Doright doesn’t understand my attraction to the ocean. I tell him I have a compulsion to be in the presence of sand and waves and water, but the only sand and water he acknowledges are on the golf courses he plays, and he does his best to avoid landing in either.

So I sent him this photo, and told him sand was a good thing. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t impressed.


I’m already planning my next beach day. 

Peace, people.



The Sea Knows

The sea knows my name
and calls me ever homeward
here child, you’ll be safe

The sea owns my soul
echoes in the ebb and flow
waves’ endless lament

The sea holds my heart
safely wombed in fathoms deep
swaddling currents’ keep.


Peace, people.

I’ll Sea You There

In response to The Daily Post’s daily prompt: if you could live anyplace else on earth where would it be? There is no doubt where I’d go.

I. Give me salt and sea

Let me wake to ocean’s roar

Guide my steps in sand.

II.  Relentless waves shrug

Nudging shells onto soft sand

Here are her treasures.

III.  Sunset on ocean

Mist caressing horizon

Capturing the light.

Peace, People!