It is summer. I take off my shirt. I lurch into the Scaffie for an evening sail. In the process it would appear that I wrenched off my Raybans as I find only the string things that attached them to my person. Oh dear. Maybe I will find the in Davey Jone’s Locker tomorrow.
The wind is perfect, the weather is hot, it is the end of a very satisfying week like, you know, you know, kinda, workwise.
We charge over the reef
I decapsule a bottle of beer as what had been left behind post party.
I look at it accidentally and discover that it had been brewed in Wisconsin. Wisconsin! I am surging over the reef in Onna son on a hot Okinawan evening, drinking beer made in Wisconsin.
Guess the name of the beer? Leinenkugel! Germans in America now in Okinawa!
Hey, Politicians leave those immigrants alone.
Welcome
Pure
Wonderful evening and I have the whole weekend ahead!
The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond 