We left the California coast early, departing at dinner time yesterday instead of breakfast this morning. That meant that we had a whole day to recover from our exertions and reorient ourselves toward the tasks of the very busy week ahead of us. Kim and Skylar were very glad to have that time at home. Since I've been suffering from dryness-induced breathing problems since we walked in the door, however, I haven't had the chance to feel their sense of relief. All I can think is that I'm not getting enough air. It makes me irritable and irrational.

In an effort to stave off my final submission to the bone-dry reality principle of life in the Southwest, then, let me express my nostalgia for the trip we just took by referring you to Kim's numerous entries about it from today -- scroll down a bit to see some excellent pictures she shot using Bean's camera, including a number featuring gpratt's thoughtful handmade gifts -- and sharing this photo of our daughter sporting blissfully in the ocean:

I can almost taste the salt. Actually, I can taste salt, but it's coming from my suddenly desert-chapped lips and not from the kiss of the sea. Having seen the Pacific on two successive weekends has me feeling particularly homesick for a life in Kevin Starr's world. I might even give up my soul for the privilege. Maybe I already did.