The sweat is running down my face.  I’m sitting on deck stairs, catching the gentle afternoon breeze.  I can hear Sheba panting on the deck.  I lean against the side railing, closing my eyes.  I can hear the whoosh of the traffic, the drone of  a lawn mower.

The bread is done.  The loaves are cooling on the rack.  Sheba’s life jacket and her mats are washed in soap and water, rinsed and drying in the sun.  Amazing how much her things can stink up the car.  Amazing what a little soap and water can do.

We went out to Elbow Sunday for our first sail of the year.  The mast went up and we got the boat in the water.  But that was as far as we got.  For one reason or another, the sail wouldn’t go up.  So we gave up on thoughts of sailing that day.  We ate our lunch on the beach.  Sheba sat in the wet sand, dressed in her life jacket and nowhere to sail.

After lunch we got help and took the mast down, loaded the boat and got it out of the water.  After an hour or so of packing and loading up, we headed home.  And after another hour or so we got home.  You might say we had a day of nothing or just frustrations.  But I just said:  That’s life.

I’m sitting in the kitchen now, tap, tapping away, keeping my heebe jeebies at bay.  Sweat is dripping down the sides of my face.  I wonder if other people get them.  I suppose everyone has their own demons or else they are lying.

The AC is now on.  Its coolness is soothing.  The sweat recedes along with the ghosts.  I sigh one big sigh, feeling stronger, dreaming sweet dreams of sailing.