Margaritaville

Sitting in the Margaritaville lobby, feeling very self-conscious. Does EVERYONE know we don't belong here? We walked in off the street to enjoy the beach from a warmer vantage point. It's freezing today. An ice-in-the-birdbath day.
I hunker down on a seat by the bay window and pretend to talk on my phone. Chris nonchalantly wanders outside and beckons me to join him. Finally, I do.

Although the sun is behind a haze, it's not windy. The Gulf is a lovely emerald green today, with white waves rolling in. Watching them, I quit caring about what the Margaritaville staff might think. Lord knows I've spent enough at their delicious restaurant, Frank and Lola's. I'm just grateful to be at the beach -- my beach.
I've been deep into my work on Grace. I'm not sure its good, but I love it anyway. I love the characters, the palmreading, the motorcycle riding. I love the songs of the 80s, I love Washington, DC.
This will be the last time I go through it for awhile. I'll bless it, send it out, and forget about it.
I'm already working on a new manuscript, something Chris and I wrote together. It's completely different from Josie's story, more of a sci-fi action/adventure. Chris can get me to do things I wouldn't normally do.
We start feeling the chill, so we walk to the car. This time we bypass the lobby, but we'll be back.