I yelled at my partner when he played games on his cell. We were sitting underneath the umbrella on the beach. I did my snorkling, combed the seaweed out of my hair, and relaxed without pen and paper in hand but I did have July's Writer's Digest stuffed in a bag. Yeah, I pulled it out and read. The pages got wet. I dog-earred the good stuff (great interviews), and then I scolded my much more enthusiastic-to-snorkel-better-half for whipping out his phone to play poker. There's just something wrong about having any form of technology when you're sitting in the beach chair with blue skies and topaz waters.
Tomorrow we have two dives. I've done this before, got certified last year, but all in fresh water. It will be my first salt water dive. We're doing a 90 foot and a ship wreck. Now my companion can't control air traffic while he's on vacation and I shouldn't write. And I'm not. Only I have no doubt there's a niche for a diver's first salt water dive written in first person. As far as this blog, he MADE me bring the laptop so he could watch the stock market and of course I would have worried myself sick not checking e-mails, so it worked out.
Leaving a blog note from Florida is important because I need to post that I did hear back from a literary agent last week and sent them some chapters. No way am I going to get my hopes up, but just in case they call and want to see the whole mauscript, I thought it would be nice to have evidence that I'm not avoiding, and of course, not writing. I'm on vacation.