Occasionally my husband insists that I go outdoors, leave Jayel's Alien keyboard behind and think about something beyond the realms of fantasy that own my soul. Yesterday was such a day. We headed in the general direction of an 'oil change' - which when you live at the end of Earth in Oregon (and drive a German auto) is a day trip (sometimes two, if we dawdle) in itself.

I drove the glowing silver 'sorceress' and Ken rode shotgun, shuffling the papers of his most current real estate speculation. At the first rest area I stopped to put the top down, ending Ken's annoying paper shuffling, and was distracted by pied woodpeckers, stellar jays, several deer and dozens of chipmunks and red squirrels (just the first wee bit of dawdling). With the light of the day star warming our faces we continued east, away from the beauty of the sea and into the silent shadows of the redwoods, tracking back and forth over the narrow bridges that cross the many serpentine curves of the Smith River. By this time I was enjoying the rhythm of the road, once again amazed at the German engineering and the pulsing power of the little German's engine. She is a marvel, my little sorceress, able to sweep around curves (clearly posted 25 mph) at well over 50 mph without even a hint of the squealing rubber on asphalt one would get in an 'American' made sports car. Her wide racing tires grab the road and her little butt tucks as she springs forward around even the tightest of switchbacks. I was invisible, hidden in the silver mist, laughing out loud as I passed the great hulking Corvette (painted screaming yellow) receiving the state trooper's undivided attention. *grins wickedly* California plates draw that sort of attention in Oregon; we need the revenue.

At the three hour mark we swung around (oil change forgotten) and headed home to catch the sunset, stopping at Cave Junction (someday I will actually find the caves) for a leisurely lunch and an ice cream cone for the road. We broke the rise above Sea just as Sun kissed her good-bye, making the last leg of our journey very precious, for Sun eased beneath the Pacific Ocean's far horizon in a brilliant flash of green light, a special gift that I have only received five or six times out of all the sunsets I have watched. As the light faded, the luminescence of microscopic organisms flowed, trapped in salty rivulets, down the sea stacks, offering a gentle night-light to guide us home.

This morning I awoke to an editor's request for the rewrite on a manuscript, but not even Andrew's demands can spoil the still warm memories of well engineered performance, wind in my hair, and Sun kissing Sea with such tenderness.