The fortunate part about not knowing what lies ahead of you is that sometimes, not knowing makes it possible to muddle through a difficult situation. Sometimes foreknowledge only makes what is coming more difficult to bear.

Whether or not what I have could be correctly termed "Martian Death Flu" is somewhat irrelevant; anything that forces you to sleep for over eighteen hours a day - while you're on vacation, no less - counts, as far as I can tell.

For those of you who hated the sunny, cheerful phone calls I made from the beach, revenge is yours. I have spent the last 24 hours huddled up on Noah and David's couch, under blankets, alternately sneezing and snuffling, and making the blindingly-obvious statements that I always make when somewhat feverish.If ever there was a hint that perhaps it was time to go home, this is it. True, I need sleep, as I also need hydration and probably a few calories (hard to get interested in eating when all food tastes like unsalted cardboard), but what I really, really need right now is some kitty ministrations.

Four-thirty finds me beachside, sprawled on Noah and David's multicolored beach towel, camera in hand, in the hopes of catching one of what Noah describes as Redondo Beach's spectacular sunsets. They're pretty picky out here, these sunset connoisseurs. Knowing that tomorrow, the sun will - yet again - set into the ocean means they're not nearly so excited by its daily happening as someone who will only see a maximum of six such occurrences before flying back east again.

Despite my laughter and my joking about California weather to my friends, it does get cold here, although not as cold as the locals would like you to think. The beach winds at sunset have teeth sharpened over miles of ocean; they chew past the breakers and roar onto the sand, looking for something to devour.

Me.

12.10.2003. Lunch in one hand, my little green notebook in the other.

David is absorbed in Vanity Fair, and Noah is in the other room. For all intents and purposes, I am free to sit here at the table and write what I like, without interruption or question.

* * * * *

Never let it be said that I don't ever let anyone take photos of me. Jody, not a word from you, boy.

Noah says: "Make sure everyone knows that these are just snapshots, and not my usual artistic stuff."

Flickr photos from the album 2003 - Sedona by domesticat

Oak Creek Canyon overlook
by domesticat.Oak Creek Canyon overlook
by domesticat.Leaving Oak Creek Canyon
by domesticat.Very red rocks
by domesticat.Cathedral Rock - 1 of 4
by domesticat.Cathedral Rock - 2 of 4
by domesticat.Cathedral Rock - 3 of 4
by domesticat.Cathedral Rock - 4 of 4
by domesticat.Primitive road?
by domesticat.Sunset - 1 of 5
by domesticat.

10 out of 17 on Flickr

So that's what the photos from the Grand Canyon look like. I wasn't able to get Matt and Kara's computer to play nicely with my card reader, so even looking at the photos had to wait until I got to California, but a few of them were actually worth the wait.There are about twenty photos in this batch. I took more, but decided to prune out the obvious duplicates. I'll post the photos from Oak Creek Canyon and Sedona separately. Right now I have a choice: sit here and work on photos, or make myself some lunch and enjoy an exquisitely sunny day.

I have a 4 p.m. play date with a very exuberant Labrador retriever, whose day job is to be a hearing dog for one of Noah and David's friends. We're going down to the beach, and we're planning on having a lovely romp.

Sunset and rock formation photos can wait. It's time to play.