the World of Webmistress Ming

This is an important day. Did I say, "important"?

No, shout it in all caps: this is the day I stopped being a housewife and started being a WRITER.

It's the day I've found my agent, even if she doesn't know it yet.

It's the day I've found my agent, even if Martini Boy and the rest of my male advisors don't know it yet.

I know it.

How do I describe the shift? It's not open, obvious or even apparent.

It's been a difficult day.

The day began an hour earlier than it should. At 6:01, I was getting out of bed in answer to my dogs' pawing and racketing.

At 6:03, I was taking the conference call (coffee-less) from the London publisher that was supposed to take place an hour later. That darned Daylight Savings Time!

Let's just say it was an exercise in frustration. No coffee, mizzy brain, bad connection, speakerphone ... and JUST when I needed it least, Martini Boy's shower drowned out much of what the London team was saying.

It was not, if you will, my finest hour.

I can't decide whether it's heresy or whether it simply takes 20 years, but putting out the flags this morning, I found myself thinking:

"It's time to get a Washington State flag."

For nearly 20 years, I've been flying Nevada's state flag along with the stars and stripes on all flag-flying holidays. But with recent family troubles, the thought of the Silver State no longer makes me feel at home.

It's the place where I have relatives, but I guess it's not "home" any more.

Time to claim my new home with a new flag.

One more day devoted to the "get some sleep in summer" project, and it was a good one! Drum roll, please: this morning's doggie wake-up was a blessedly-late 6:48 a.m.

THAT is sleeping in around this house.

Yesterday saw installation of high-grade solar film on three windows, reseating and caulking the window frames, and mounting of one set of wood blinds. Today, I'll finish the blinds and take the solar film to the bathroom windows.

We're getting closer and closer. Naps are a true pleasure in there, now.

Back home a week, and all I can do is paraphrase Napoleon Bonaparte's famous utterance:

Apres vacation, le deluge.

And a deluge it has been, all domestic. From reopening the house to stocking the fridge to clambering up the laundry mountain, it's taken a week to address all the pent-up chores.

Hampered by the sun.

Or, more correctly, hampered by two doggies with no clue that just because the sun is up, it may not be time to get going on the day.

So it IS 5:30 a.m. and the whole rest of the ship is sleeping? I'm sitting on the observation deck, front and center, and watching the light rise up from behind the San Francisco Bay:

The see is glassy and calm, and only two or three early risers are about to share the golden light with me. Land is a dark-blue ribbon lit with gold. Each minute sees a brighter light, more color, and just now, just this moment, I can see the twin towers of the bridge ahead in the distance.

Vacation ends today.

Piles of old rocks (petroglyphs or no) are not Martini Boy's thing, so I took this tour alone: climbing the hill of Palma Sola above Acapulco to see the ancient Central American petroglyphs.

They were breathtaking--and so was the climb. 549 stone steps up the hill, rutted and rocky. Two days later, my quadriceps still sting.

Our small group was led by tour guide Alex. He handed out walking sticks, cold water and Bimbo energy bars, (Bimbo being a popular Mexican snack brand). I thought to myself, "Uh-oh, looks like THIS Bimbo is going to need energy!"

We're sailing in their waters, and they're curious: dolphins have been escorting our ship this morning.

Nothing can be more wonderful than sitting on the rear veranda, sipping coffee and watching the beautiful sea creatures leap and wave. Hanging over the railing, I watched them streak just beneath the water, dashing toward the ship and then away.

Their feeding invites the birds to share, which signals another grouping to watch in the distance.

I am seeing very "long" today.

It took a full 11 days, but I have reached the zone. Relaxation is a very elusive place, for me.

Of course, now that I've found it, I'm ready to go home and get back to work. The ship is a very friendly, gregarious place this trip, and I feel "peopled out".

So, I'll just share a sunrise. Red and hot, just off the coast of southern Mexico:

There she goes, "ziplining" down a cable suspended over the rain forest in Costa Rica:

I didn't think I'd do it, either. Ming too scared:

Sometimes, you have to face your fears: