Over the weekend we went to Carl Washburne Campground. The beach was sunny and calm; Mark and I sun-burnt the tops of our feet. Our fellow-campers were pleasant, and coincidentally, half of them were elementary school teachers. The Child made friends with a four-year-old boy who worshiped him. Saturday, we hiked from Washburne beach, through blinding winds, through The Hobbit Trail, to Heceda Head Lighthouse. Sunday was also windy and foggy, so much so that I could see better with them off then with them on. As a reward for good filtering skills with four-year-olds, The Child was awarded a buffet brunch at Three Rivers Casino; which he thought was the zenith of dining experiences.
In the dream department, Monday night's dreams involved water dripping from ceilings. I was at Arcosanti, flying around a gathering of people in the Crafts-3 Building, playing Christmas carols on a recorder/krumhorn while water cascaded down the east window and from the skylight. I was sleeping with Mark in our bedroom, which had a wall replaced by a tent, while water dripped from our ceiling. I was looking at a closet, which also had water dripping over the shelf hardware.