Normality

A repost from our old blog, August, 2007. 
We'd just returned from a run to the islands and were adjusting to life after the loss of our sweet old Lab, Sadie, and life away from Istaboa after 7 months aboard.
For those who don't know, Rocky Point was our home for almost 20 years. Lot's of good things happened there; not many bad.
I like this old post.
Normality
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I seem to be quoting Mark Twain a lot these days. I kinda relate to the iconoclastic old southern riverboat captain... He grew up on the river not far from Memphis; he was a boat pilot like my Pop, he also loved hoppin' on a boat and traveling to his favorite places. He once wrote in a letter to a friend, "There is no unhappiness like the misery of sighting land (and work) again after a cheerful, careless voyage." and God knows we felt that way leaving the islands and returning home.
But... home is our favorite place to come home to and work provides us with the most excellent justification to escape to that cheerful, careless voyage - again.

Things are getting back to normal for us here at Rocky Point. We're both back in the gym trying to sweat off some of that island fun we consumed while enjoying the Abacos. Kind of a do it yourself rehab. Work is good. It's nice to be back in the saddle and fighting the good fight. (Creating that most excellent justification)

The pain from losing Sadie is getting better and slowly turning into an itch to find a new pup. We're trying to resist, but we're not sure if Radar will let us. He's been awfully lonesome.

It's been incredibly hot and dry around Memphis. 100+ degrees for a couple of weeks now. We put out water for the critters in the woods - they truly seem to appreciate it.
The deer have become fairly comfortable with us. They're cautious, but they don't mind us getting close... just not too close.

We posted earlier about the doe that didn't want to leave Rocky Point. Now we see why. This is her fawn.
We see Lucy (Yeah... Mel named her.) every evening when she brings her fawn by for a drink and a nibble of the freshly watered green grass in our backyard.
Radar is our deer alarm... as soon as he spots them he gives a throaty little growl to alert us of their presence.
It's fun watching the little one grow up.
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Those were the good old days... these will be too — someday.

Adios,

Istaboa