I can't remember the last time I actually just did nothing. The sweet taste of nothing that I got on Saturday was so blissful I nearly slapped myself over the head, saying, "Damn! A person could get used to nothingness of this sort. Why don't you do more of it?" Now don't worry, I wasn't having some sort of existential drug-induced crisis, I was basking in the powerful Garberville sun on the grassy bank of the EEl River just outside the Benbow Inn ("Once quite the haunt for celebs like Clark Gable and Basil Rathbone, as well as Eleanor Roosevelt and Herbert Hoover," E. read to me from the brochure and then quoted repeatedly each time we entered a new part of the spacious, old-tymey, dark-wood and european brocade Inn).

It was quite magnificent, the grassy river-side I mean, despite the opulence of the Inn. We took this respite as a way to bring E. down after taking his grueling licensing exam, and also in honor of our six year wedding anniversary (officially today). I'm amazed at how just one day away from the stress of life, my internet connection and the routines of our life at home can short circuit the stress-censors in the brain. We had a delicious meal (I had the best scallops ever! And one of the waiters, a kid who could not have been more than 17, appeared to be quite high, and would say things like, "sweet!" and "that's awesome!" when we assented that yes, he could indeed take our plate/cup/bread crumbs away) on the lovely outdoor patio. I noticed that E. was the ONLY man NOT wearing loafers on that table (and the only one under 55) and I applauded myself for my good taste in men. I have long held a suspicion about men who wear loafers, and I apologize if any of my loyal readers are loafer-wearers, but you should hear it from someone like me: It's not a good look. It says: "I am arrogant!" Trust me on this. When E. and I first began dating I told myself that if he wore loafers I would have to seriously reconsider our future together. Thank god. Then we stayed up late sipping sherry and reading Harry Potter, book Six. Good stuff. I'm not ashamed to say this.

Anyway, I proscribe nothingness as a major cure for just about anything non life-threatening if you have a chance. Nothingness with a touch of sun, and preferably some kind of water body.

Perfect.

JPR