Under a Blood Red Moon

A heat wave isn't much of a heat wave when you're staying on the oceanfront.

We started the day with breakfast on the pier served by an ancient waitress named Paula who informed us that the grill had just died.

One in our group who works in a restaurant looked stricken at the news, knowing the hardship it would cause the kitchen staff.

"Only thing worse that could happen during breakfast would be for the pier to collapse," he noted with the assurance of one who knows.

The grill came back to life and we were saved.

As proof, my pancakes and sausage arrived unscathed.

Coming back from my daily walk on the beach, I saw that the lifeguard's chalkboard had a big warning.

"The west wind will take you and your raft out to sea!" it announced.

Warning or promise, I couldn't decide.

An hour later, we watched as a guy took a raft and a six pack and headed out, soon to be sound asleep in his raft.

He drifted further and further out until he was barely a speck on the sea.

It came to the attention of the beach patrol, one of whom stationed himself directly in front of where the idiot had drifted out.

Eventually, he woke up, realized how far out he was (and probably saw the lifeguard in his vehicle glaring his way) and drunkenly began to try to paddle back in.

With the wind so strong, it took a long while for him to get back to even a reasonable distance and by then it was clear he was exhausted.

But he also knew he was in trouble, so rather than come back to shore while the beach patrol was waiting for him, he lingered in the raft until the authorities deemed him out of harm's way and left to rescue other idiots.

We were more mindful of the warnings and while we spent almost the entire afternoon in the 72-degree ocean, we were too busy admiring how clear the water was (the crabs! the fish!) to allow ourselves to be put in harm's way.

Or maybe it was just that we didn't have a six pack out there with us.

Silly moron, imbibing works better out of the water.

After cool showers in the outside shower, we convened for libations on napkins reading "Why limit happy to an hour?"

Don't worry, we didn't.

One of the more talented in the group made grilled pizzas for dinner and we scarfed them sitting at the big table on the porch while watching the dolphins and pelicans have a feeding frenzy over an enormous school of fish darkening the water right in front of our cottage.

Like last night, it was past 10:00 when the moon finally appeared, once again blood red, and began its ascent into the night sky, eventually turning orange and casting a shimmering reflection on the ocean.

"Are you anywhere close to being ready to go back home?" one of the group asked me as I gazed at it, knowing we have only a few days left.

Sadly, no.

But as the Finn brothers reminded me, better be home soon.