Aloha, Eh?

It's time once again for (our small part of) the Mahaffie clan to wander off into the world to seek a new climate and a different view of things.

Translation: We're going on vacation.

We'll be back when this great green globe has spun a full week's span around the life-giving bright sun.

Translation: We booked a week in a hotel.

Until that day, dear friends, I bid you a fond, if temporary, farewell and adieu.

Translation: I'm turning off the web now and staying disconnected until we get back.

Photo Archive Memories #4

In 1990, Karen and I took a trip to Washington state, visiting Snoqualmie, Mt. Ranier and the San Juan Islands, with a brief side-trip into Canada to Victoria. It was still early in our marriage and we were childless and adventurous. As usual, I took a healthy number of photos, a few of which I have lately scanned to my flickr pages.

We had booked ourselves into a guided bicycle tour of the San Juan Islands. Before joining that group, we planned a quiet few days in the nearby mountains.

We started at Snoqualmie, where we acclimated and took a hike in mountain woods. We visited Snoqualmie Falls, where we watched a man fight for what seemed hours with a Salmon that he eventually hiked away with. We visited Mt. Ranier and hiked on the upper trails for a few hours. It was foggy and overcast, but we caught a few glacier glimpses when the wind cleared things out.

We then joined a small group of tourists on bikes, starting from the port of Anacortes and traveling by Ferry from Island to Island in Puget Sound. On each we toured by bicycle and stayed in various inns and hotels.

Neither Karen nor I were (or are) accomplished cyclists. We had some time to train, but riding around coastal Sussex County, Delaware, where highway overpasses are the highest hills, is not truly sufficient training for even the moderate rolling hills of the San Juan Islands. So, it was a challenge. We faced it bravely though, and while we weren't the fastest or strongest riders, we had a great time and saw mountains and water and boats and countryside. And that was why we had come.

On one island, we visited a hippie-run resort that offered sea-kayak tours. We paddled out into the Sound and saw eagles' nests and more cliffs and natural beauty. On the way back, we were paced by seals, that liked to pop up behind us and watch our backs. A guide showed us a way to fool them by paddling backwards. I wish I had had my camera, but it seemed wiser to leave it on shore.

I remember changing from my bathing suit back into biking clothes in a nathroom near the kitchen of this resort's main building. There was some truly tasting-sounding live Dead being played by the kitchen staff. This was in the days before the internet archive Dead collection and even before the Dead's "From the Vault" series, so it was a rare and enticing treat.

To end the trip, we crossed into Canada at Sidney, on Vancouver Island, and rode to Victoria by way of Butchard Gardens, a played-out quarry converted to a very floral garden. It is a lovely spot near Tod Inlet and Brentwood Bay.

Victoria was very nice as well. It was the first place I've ever been where drivers stopped for pedestrians trying to cross the street. That was a level of politeness that surprised and pleased me.

Victoria was our final stop. From there we took a high-speed ferry back to Seattle, flew from Seattle to Chicago where we spent most of an uncomfortable night in O'Hare Airport before a final flight home.

Photo Archive Memories #3

The Lovely Karen and I were married in September of 1988. After a wild reception, we spent a night at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore and hopped a Swissair Flight to Geneva for an alpine adventure.

My wedding gift from Karen was a Cannon EOS camera. It was a film camera (this was almost 20 years ago, kids) and I used up (I think) 14 rolls of 36-exposure film on that trip. I've scanned a few of them to flickr as part of my on-going scanned from the archives collection.

We took a train to Locarno, on Lake Maggiore, down by the Italian Border, where we stayed on our own for a few days before joining a hot-air balloon tour. I was counting on my high-school French lessons and the good will of the Swiss people to get by; most people in this part of Switzerland, however, spoke Italian.

It was a quiet few days. We struggled to overcome jet-lag and walked around looking at things like historic and lovely monasteries.

We then took a train through part of Italy and beneath a mountain to Bern, where we joined a small group led by an outfit known as The Bombard Society for a week of hot-air balloon flights and sight-seeing.

This was a wonderful way to see Switzerland. We were two of only four tourists on this trip. Our companions were two elderly singles and the three members of the Bombard staff, who were great tour leaders and cool people.

Each morning we drove to a launch site for a flight planned, based on the day's winds, to take us near fun things to see. We'd land, lunch, tour, have dinner and return to a luxury downtown Bern hotel for a deep sleep.

Our first flight ended with an exciting wind-driven drag across a meadow that left us sideways in the basket laughing and exhilarated while local kids raced across the field to see the excitement. We followed that with morning champaign.

One morning we planned to take off from this hill-side farm. The winds were too strong, so we visited with the farmer, his wife, and 20-something daughter. We got the sense that the tour leader was carrying on a flirtation with the daughter.

We got to see the inside of the farmhouse/barn to the right in this photo. At the center of the building is a massive brick wood-stove that heats the farmhouse on one side and a barn on the other. We breakfasted with the farmer and his workers, who tackled eggs by the half-dozen each. There was fresh-baked cake and coffee and laughter.

When we took off into a clear morning sky, the farmer's parents were waving to us from the windows of their house; the one on the left.

We got to see Bern from very high up. We visited ancient walled towns. We saw geology up close. We soared over beautiful scenery.

We generally ate at small, local restaurants. There was a different local beer in each. There were unique local foods. Our tour guides and staff ate with us and within a very short time we were a tight-knit, happy group.

One day, we traveled high into the mountains for coffee at an outdoor alpine cafe. I took a photo looking out over a deep green valley and high white mountains. It happened that, a few years later, our local theater group, the Possum Point Players, performed The Sound of Music. I took the part of Max. Karen was in the orchestra. I was thrilled to have this photo used on the program cover.

All in all, it was a perfect honeymoon and gave a strong start to a marriage that will turn twenty this fall. I'm indebted to my parents, who paid for the trip and to a now closed travel agency in Rehoboth, where I stumbled across a note about the Bombard Society in a Swissair catalog.

Now I just hope that the dollar's value improves against the Euro. I'd like to go back some day.

Nineteen Years!

I received a great big vase-arrangement of red, red roses this afternoon at my office. The lovely Karen sent them in honor of our nineteenth anniversary. I am a lucky man. I am a happy man.

On this date in 1988 Karen and I exchanged our vows in Potomac, Maryland. We had a reception at a country-club-like place and made our honeymoon escape in my old VW Jetta. It was a heck of a party.

We spent a night at the Admiral Fell Inn, at Fells Point in Baltimore. The next day we flew to Switzerland for a hot-air ballooning trip. That was pretty damn cool.

I remember standing with Karen in the gondola, looking down on a stream in a green valley, crossed by a covered bridge. The shadow of the balloon briefly shaded a fly-fisherman who looked up and waved.

I remember saying that when we reached twenty years we should bring our (presumed) kids back to Switzerland for a ballooning trip. Karen laughed and laughed. It was an early example of an important part of our relationship; I have crazy ideas and Karen is amused.

But maybe we'll do it. Next year?

Sixth and Seventh Golf Games in 2007

I had two chances to play golf while we were in Vermont this summer. Vermont is, topographically, so much different from Delaware that is great fun and a real challenge to play up there.

At Bakersfield Country Club
On the Tuesday of our week at the Tyler Place, we put together a group of 10 interested in playing a round of golf and headed out to Bakersfield Country Club. Several of us had played there in the past; it is one of my favorite places to play just for being so different from what I am used to here in the flat lands.

Bakersfield is a local club and very down to earth. The parking lot is gravel and the members are neither hoity nor toity. The holes range from rolling meadow layouts to long thin dog-legs that hug the sides of what seem like towering mountains. There are plenty of elevation changes and challenges.

I played poorly, as is my habit, though there were some good moments. Since my drives are dicey at best, I usually play safe and use my 3-wood off the tee. On a course like Bakersfield, where many of the holes feature dense forest on one side and yawning chasms on the other, straight-though-short is a good approach. I carded a par on one hole and felt mostly positive about my game despite a few blow-up holes and a final score of 126.

The weather was lovely, with blue skies and a few clouds.

At Richford Country Club
Later in the week, Andy Southmayd and I headed a bit further out to play a neat little 9-hole course at Richford Country Club. This is another very local club that sits just south of the border with Canada and boasts a healthy membership from north of the line.

Andy found this place and counts it among his favorites. I am fond of it as well. It also varies between meadow and woods and has even more elevation changes than Bakersfield. Like many courses in the area, it includes wonderful mid-fairway boulders that, if hit, can send your ball well off to almost anywhere.

Our round was wet. we played in a slowly lifting fog that occasionally forgot itself and became light rain. On the positive side, it made reading the greens a bit more interesting.

Again I played badly, mixing in a par with a series of mediocre holes and a few blow-ups. Not terrible, but not great. Good only another 126.

Over the last nine years, I've played some seven different courses in upstate Vermont and New York. I've enjoyed all of them, played poorly, learned things, and seen some spectacular views. I've bought golf shirts and hats. There are grass stains from mountainsides on my golf shoes and towel.

Thanks north country. It's been great fun.

Vacation Report #4: At the Tyler Place

This summer was our ninth, and might have been our last, at The Tyler Place family resort, at Highgate Springs, Vermont. Not our last because we don't like the place; we love it. But Colleen next year will be too old for the kid's programs and too young for the adult. The Tyler Place is wonderfully well designed for families with younger kids. Unfortunately, we're starting to leave that demographic.

But let us not dwell on that thought. Let me tell you about our week.

We took two days to drive around Lake Ontario from Niagara Falls. We spent a night at Trenton, Ontario; a small town about half-way around. The next morning, we continued around the lake, crossing the St. Lawrence River at Cornwall and re-entering the US at Rooseveltown. We drove along the very top of New York State, crossed the top of Lake Champlain from Rouses Point in New York to Alburg in Vermont and drove through Swanton to The Tyler Place.

Over the years, we've tried most of the activities that are possible at the Tyler Place. We have our favorites, and we indulged ourselves with walks in the woods and along the lake shore. We went on canoe and kayak trips. We enjoyed sunsets. Karen played tennis. I played golf. We went on a mountain hike that ended in a clear, cold mountain stream. We did all the great things that one can do in Vermont in the summer.

We also met great people and reconnected with old friends. Folks stay at the Tyler Place for a week at a time, and most return the same week each summer. Each year, there are a few new couples joining the group. In our time, Karen and I and our friends have tried to meet at least one, if not two, of the new couples in our week. Entering that group of vacationing families can be daunting, but the Tyler Family makes a point of welcoming everyone. We have found great pleasure, and many new friends, by trying to be as welcoming as possible.

At the end of our week this year, someone called me a "camp counselor." It was a nice complement.

I think I find my greatest joy in the waters of Lake Champlain. The Tyler Place includes a variety of boats and water sports. I played around with the hobie cats and made sure to slide off the lake-slide. And at the end of almost every afternoon, I swam from the dock above out to one of the blue and yellow floating trampolines for a water-born loaf.

The lake waters were remarkably refreshing.

And then we drove home. I've posted many photographs. And I'm back at work.

Vacation Report #3: The Falls at Niagara

We got to Niagara Falls late in the day on Wednesday, crossed the river/border, chatted briefly with a pleasant young man at Canadian customs, and found our way to a stylishly vintage-looking Holiday Inn just up the hill from the Falls.

I had been to Niagara Falls for a very brief visit back in the fall of 2005 as part of that year's NSGIC Conference. I knew then that I wanted to bring Karen and the girls back for a bit longer stay. This time, we had an evening and a full day to check things out.

We started with a dinner in the revolving restaurant at the top of the "Skylon" tower. It featured good food and great views of the Falls and both the US and Canadian Niagaras.

On Thursday, we carried a full load of tourism. We viewed the Falls from up close, both above and below. We walked in the tunnels under the Falls and got soaked on the lower viewing platform. We walked the trail along the wild white water downstream from the Falls. And we visited the butterfly conservatory, where clouds of pastel bugs floated around and among crowds of delighted visitors. If one is lucky (and I was) butterflies stop by to check you out.

Of course we also rode the Maid of the Mist, which ferries visitors up river and as close to the Falls as is prudent. Each passenger is given a blue plastic poncho. When the wind is up, as it was on our visit, these ponchos are a challenge to control. And it is the case that once into the thick spray below the falls, photography is impossible. But this trip is always worth the wetting.

We finished our visit with a dinner at the Table Rock Restaurant, which overlooks the Falls themselves.

The area around Niagara Falls is remarkably developed. When I used to hear about Niagara Falls as a child, I imagined a wild, natural scene. In reality, the Falls provide a center-point between two largish cities; one in each nation. On both sides, the river banks are parks with nicely developed trails and amenities. Back from the banks are hotels and tourist attractions. The Canadian side seems more developed and features towers and a casino or two. But it is a pleasant place to visit.

If only for a day or two.

Vacation Report #2: At Watkins Glen

On Wednesday morning, we headed west from the Binghamton area towards Elmira, then north to Watkins Glen at the southern end of Seneca Lake, one of the Finger Lakes. We wanted to take an hour or two to wander through Watkins Glen State Park.

Watkins Glen includes a deep canyon cut through layers of sedimentary rock by a stream that now drops down a series of waterfalls. Several trails wind along the stream and along the top of the canyon.

It's a lovely spot.

After a quick lunch, we drove north along the west shore of Seneca Lake through New York's wine country. We picked-up the New York State Throughway (I-80) at Geneva and headed west to Niagara Falls.

Vacation Report #1

We've returned from just under two weeks up north. We got back early yesterday afternoon. We hugged our cats, unpacked, started lots of laundry, mowed long grass, took the carrier off the roof of the car, and went off to see the new Hairspray movie (which was great).

We started our wanderings on Tuesday, July 10. We drove north, taking I-95 out of Delaware, I-76 past Philadelphia, and I-476 north through Pennsylvania to Scranton, where we picked-up I-81 to New Milford, PA, where there is a large truck stop and a small Holiday Inn Express.

The truck stop was a Flying J. We had an excellent dinner there and wandered around the store for a bit. The food was wonderful, plentiful and inexpensive, though it might be a challenge to eat healthy there on a daily basis. Clearly, the Flying J folks use their great and low-priced fare to attract business for the fuel and supply sales.

As we ate, we heard the public address system calling out reservation numbers for the showers. The truckers -- who came in all shapes, sizes, colors and genders -- entered tired, hungry and rumpled and left rested, sated, clean and ready to go.

Keep an eye out for Flying J's when you travel. They are pretty cool.

We're On The Road

Back in two weeks.....

My Name is Mike. Once I Had a Cap.

My cap was white, with grass stains, a pair of crossed US and Canadian flags, and the logo of the North Country Golf Club.

I bought my cap on a summer's day in Rouse's Point, New York, after a morning playing golf with friends.

I bought my cap just about a mile from the US/Canada border; about as far north in the US as I have been.

My cap traveled with me on water, up mountains, and onto golf courses in several states.

My cap flew with me to St. Thomas for a sun-filled, but fateful, vacation week.

My cap went to sea with me one Wednesday afternoon, flying over the chop on a jet ski.

My cap clung to my head as the wind and spray whipped past us.

My cap let go when I turned into the wind from Spring Bay and opened-up the throttle.

My cap flew away behind me. and was lost in the channel between Thatch Kay and St. Thomas.

My cap sank into the water about 1,900 miles -- as the crow flies, though crows don't wear caps -- from where I bought it.

My cap, bought almost as far north as I have been, was taken by the sea as far south as I have been.

My name is Mike. Once I had a cap, but I don't anymore.

Sun? Check! Sand? Check. Fun? Check!

We spent our spring break in the US Virgin Islands. It is my job, as Dad, to get my girls to sunshine, heat, and beaches each year at this time.

This year, we traveled to St. Thomas and stayed at the Wyndham Sugar Bay. A nice place, with its own beach and several pools down about 100 stair steps from the hotel buildings. We got plenty of exercise.

We spent part of our time sunning and swimming and purposely doing nothing. We also played tourist in a minor way.

We visited the Coral World Ocean Park, a small aquarium with the usual pretty fish, a shark tank, sea turtles, and reverse tower that goes down a few stories into the channel between St. Thomas and Thatch Cay.

The Aquarium is adjacent to a very pretty beach at the bottom of Coki Bay, where we spent did a bit of swimming and floating. This is a public beach, and very tourist-y.

As you walk onto the sands, men come forward to offer you rental chairs and umbrellas and what-not. As you sit, you are approached by wandering waters working for the half-dozen or so make-shift taverns that shelter under the palms at the back of the beach. It's moderately annoying, but firm, polite refusals are respected.

We also spent a day on St. John. We signed-up for a guide-led tour of the island, which is mostly made up of the Virgin Islands National Park. We were driven on breathtaking mountain roads, saw colonial ruins, and had lunch at an open-air diner at Shipwreck Landing.

The park includes Trunk Bay, a public beach maintained by the National Park Service and listed as one of the best beaches in the world. It features a snorkeling trail, perfect white sand, and warm clear water. We snorkeled together around a small island in the bay.

After a brief shopping stop, we enjoyed a sunny, scenic ferry ride back to St. Thomas.

I took about 600 pictures. I've distilled that down to 78 posted as a photo set. I've also created a map-based travelogue, using the new My Maps feature of Google Maps.

The US Virgin Islands are a great place to visit. They, like many travel destinations, remind me of our own Delaware beach resorts, but the pace is much slower and the geography is stunningly different. I was pleasantly surprised out how steep and mountainous the islands are; it looks like they are up-thrust sedimentary rock rather than accumulated coral.

Don't go there expecting speedy service. That's not the point. Slow down, look around, and enjoy one of the more beautiful spots on earth.

Home Again...

We pulled back into our humble non-Caribbean home at about 2:00 a.m. today (4/14). We've been unpacking, doing laundry, and posting vacation photos. I'll work on some detailed vacation reporting starting tomorrow.

Timing is Everything

Today's spring snow shower couldn't have come at a better time ; for us, if not for our flowers and flowering trees.

We leave this evening for the sun-drenched waters of south-of-here. When heading for hot for a spring break, it's always nice to have cold to leave behind.

As is tradition, while on vacation I plan to disconnect. No laptop. No web. No blogging.

So.... see ya!

Report from the Keys, Part 3: Okay, About Chase....

Maybe I'm spoiled, but I usually don't have to sit right next to the most spoiled children in the world. One day, down in the Keys, that's what it felt like.

Here's the scene. It's a bright, hot day. We find four lounge chairs more or less in the shade by the pool. We settle in to relax. There are a few empty chairs to our left, and a few to our right.

A Mom comes along with two pre-teen boys, a frying-size girl, and a grandma in tow. She installs the boys in the chairs to our right (right next to me) and takes the civilized portion of her crew off to the left.

Right next to me sits Chase. A pudgy little guy with his nose buried in some game-boy ultra or something. Next to him is his brother, maybe a cousin, who appear to be poking Chase, or annoying him in some way.

"Maaaaa-AAAAAA-OOOO-ooooo-mmmmmmmm-MUH!" said Chase. In a high, shrieking whine.

Mom is across the way, in the pool. She's playing with the little girl. Chase never really took a look to see who he might be calling for, or where she might be. He just let fly with the loud, drawn-out call of the spoiled child.

He got hungry. His call echoed forth.

He was thirsty. He sounded his battle cry.

That, my friends, was Chase.

Report from the Keys, Part 2: Being There

I'm not sure where the time is going, but I'd better wrap up this Spring Break mini-vacation report before next spring, or risk looking pretty silly.

The truth is, we didn't do a whole heck of a lot at Hawks Cay. We were there to sit in the sun, by the pool (or in the pool).
Some vacations should be active, physical challenges that jolt you out of your day-to-day and reintroduce you to the grit and exhilaration of real life. Other vacations, such as this one, are times to do nothing; to simply be alone with yourself and your family and rediscover the quiet center of your life.

Those activities that we did organize were largely meant as retreats from the hot sun and minor sun-burns we encountered. All four of us suffered minor sunscreen failures; each burning a small bit of ourselves. Mine was the upper left arm and shoulder. It starts about an inch above my forearm/farmer's tan, creating a paler band between tanned lower arm and burned upper. Very tribal.

We took one morning to visit the Theater of the Sea, in Islamorada. This place has dolphin and sea lion shows, exotic birds, sharks and sea turtles and a rich display of plant life. It was small, but well run, and offered lots to look at.

That was swell.

We also dipped lightly into the Spa offerings of the resort. I had a moderately deep-tissue massage and Karen got a facial. Colleen and Christina had their first massages, taking advantage of the resort's "Teen Spa" offerings, which were nicely and appropriately tuned to the younger set.

We also spent an hour paddling around the Duck Key coastline in a pair of kayaks. It would have been better if we had been able to book spaces in one of the resort's twice-weekly guided eco-kayak tours. We didn't really know where to go, and didn't want to risk going to far in waters that were not familiar to us.

That brings up a point to consider, should you plan a trip to a spot like this. Check a week or so ahead about reservations for things like special tours and activities. Things were book-up well in advance. Also note that all these activities cost extra. It adds up.

The best thing we did was also one of the least expensive; a two hour sunset sail on a catamaran. This was a small group of very nice folks, on a comfortable, stable sailing catamaran with sodas, beer, wine and champagne. We cruised out into a calm bit of the Atlantic and back again, watching the sunset, visiting with dolphins, and indulging in sedate, constructive conversation.

I particularly enjoyed chatting with the gentleman who captained the cruise. In his day job, he's food services manager for the local hospital. He and his teen-aged daughter run the evening cruise as an add-on job. We discussed the land use issues in the fast redeveloping Keys. I was curious to know what it was like to work and raise a family in such a high-rent area. This is the discussion that led me to think of the Keys as a condensed version of our own coastal resort area.

That was our last night. The next day, a big breakfast and a leisurely drive up to the Miami airport. A quick flight home and here we are.

Report from the Keys, Part 1: Getting There

It looks like I'm going to have to parcel this story out over a few posts. So much to do, so little time to do it.

We booked a very early flight out of BWI to Miami on Friday (4/14/06). As a result, we left Lewes on Thursday evening after work and stayed in a Holiday Inn near the airport. We were able to leave our car at the hotel and take the hotel shuttle to the airport, but had to be in the lobby, ready to go, at 4:20 a.m. Ugly.

That penance, though, earned us a late morning arrival in Miami. We were able to rent a car and roll onto Duck Key by mid-day. We were able to register at Hawks Cay resort and get in a full afternoon of lazy sunning that day.

Our flight was full, and full of families with kids. The iPod proved its worth. I was able to retreat into music for much of the flight, as were the girls. Karen took refuge in a partial doze.

Miami/Dade, by the way. Wow. Sprawl. Ugly.

Other than a cruise-ship whistle-dock stop last spring at Key West, I hadn't been to the Keys since the early 1970s. I was a kid then, but had some memories of a series of sparsely populated islands. Things have changed.

We only saw the top half of the Keys, but it looked to me just like the Lewes/Rehoboth area, with more tropic weather and flora. Imagine the Midway section of Delaware's Route One corridor, followed by a bridge, followed by Dewey Beach, then a bridge, then a causeway, then Bethany Beach, more bridge, Rehoboth, causeway, bridge, Fenwick Island, etc.

The Hawks Cay resort is part of a seven-island grouping known as Duck Key. Its high-end residential and resort hotel development began in the 1950s and has grown to hotel buildings, pools, tennis courts, marina, villa-style hotel rooms, homes, vacation homes, a spa. The works.

Very nice. Well-landscaped. Established and smooth.

Our room was on a second floor, overlooking a pool and a man-made swimming lagoon. Beyond lay a channel, bridged by part of US Route 1, which winds through the islands from Key Largo to Key West.

We could sit on a small balcony and observe the pool, hot-tubs, and lounging area. There were afternoon steel-drum and guitar players, mostly ignored by the families at the pool. Several of the musicians were quite good.

We had lunch at a cantina next to the pool, and made reservations for a late dinner at a fancy restaurant in the Hotel. Very nice.

A word about kids. At lunch, we were a table away from a group of six, or maybe seven, 8- to 10-year olds, shepherded by two moms paying little or no attention to the little monsters.

It was like lunching next to a mis-tuned jet engine.

These kids went from shrieking, to screaming, to standing on chairs, to chasing each other through the restaurant, to climbing the juvenile palm trees potted in the doorway.

It's telling that the loudest child was sitting at one end of the table, repeatedly yelling "Quiet! Qui-ET! HEY! Be QUUIIEETT!" Endlessly.

We noticed that may of the people at this place were letting their kids run riot. Not all of them; many were quite pleasant. But there were some who made middle-class America look bad.

I was proud of my kids. They stress us at times; but in contrast, they are angels.

Photos from Florida

I've had a chance to go through the several hundred photos I took on our Florida jaunt. I've selected a representative sample and posted them as a photoset on Flickr: "Mahaffies in the Florida Keys, 2006."

I'll try to post a narrative account soon. Don't let me forget to tell you about Chase, the most spoiled of the spoiled rotten rich people's kids we found in Florida. I'll also tell you about some of the very nice people we met. But don't let me forget to tell you about Chase.

Yes, The Weather Was Rather Nice In Florida This Week

In what appears to be a new family tradition, Karen, the girls, and I disappeared for Spring Break for the last several days. We jumped state for a stay at a moderately impressive resort in the Florida Keys.

We slept late, ate well, lazed in the sun, floated in pools, burned odd patches of skin, ate well, slept late, swam, sat about, indulged in spa treatments, paddled kayaks, watched dolphins, slept in, tried new foods, drank Red Stripe beer (me) and virgin daiquiris (the girls), ate great food, slept in beach chairs, ignored the news, met new people, endured other people, and went for a glorious sunset sail on a catamaran.

Our themes for the week? Food, sleep and sun.

Here's a memory.

There will be many more photos on my Flickr site in a day or two. For now, I'm off to bed and into the office tomorrow.