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.

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Wonderful evening and I have the whole weekend ahead!

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