Re-Entry Is Crap, But The Weekend Was Just Fine

So the milk's bad in the refrigerator, my muscles are stiff, my sunburn stings in the shower, I think I could sleep for a week, my inbox is full of noise, the Spurs lost to the Lakers, the Americans and the Iraqis are still killing each other, the Israelis are stocking up on even bigger and better WMDs, and yet...

All is well on Santa Cruz Island. We covered a lot of ground in three days, watched a two spectacular sunsets, drowsed through two spectacular sunrises, chased wild pigs, hiked the "trail of tears", lounged in hammocks (thank you to my friend Patrick for inspiration), slept on lumpy ground, counted birds, discovered a comet (turns out it was discovered already, it's called Comet NEAT, which is was, but we didn't know that, so much for enduring fame), ate pasta in a bag, talked about almost everything, got chased off of private property, pursued 1000 dolphins and a fast-moving Humpback Whale across the channel, and thanked the Lord and our lucky stars that we didn't end up on the other end of the island with the 40 Korean daytrippers and their generator-powered karaoke machine. Which, all told, made for a pretty great weekend. Which also makes me want to say thanks to my dad for being a pretty great dad.