There's something inexplicably wild and liberating about the warm wind that blows off any kind of tropical or near-tropical sea like the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing feels more like home to me than that wind on my skin.

The brown pelican, or rather the conspicuous lack thereof, was such a rallying point for the late 1970s/early 1980s environmental movement that I grew up around, that I still find it exceedingly odd to see one. Here they drift by in pairs, sometimes half a dozen in a tight V formation, just barely above the water.

Why is price gouging okay on islands? The market here is 2x, sometimes 3x the price the market in Apalachicola, which is only about 15 minutes away. Except beer, which is only about 10% more expensive. There are limits to the market apparently.

It's funny how when you're hand washing dishes all the sudden 1 fork, 1 knife, 1 spoon, 1 plate, 1 bowl per person is suddenly all the dishes you need. Not that you notice at first, but the fork in the drying rack is easier to grab than the one in the drawer and so. This same principle applies to many other things, notably clothing when you're washing it in guest house sinks, books when you have to carry them in your pack for months. Travel engenders a focus on necessity, make excess nearly impossible. Except for cheap beer.

Salt water and sun and cure almost anything. But not this head cold it seems. Or at least not in a week. I need another week.

Instead of sunscreen, consider shade.

I'm not sure why it's considered so outlandish that the moon could influence us in various ways. It does, if you recall, MOVE THE FUCKING OCEAN.

Expertise is over valued. You don't need to be a master carpenter to build something out of wood, you don't need to be a chef to cook a meal. Up to a point anyway. You probably do need to be a doctor to perform open heart surgery.