I just came in from finishing my steps on the jogging track up on Deck 9.  While I was up there, walking under overcast skies, in sixty-degree weather, and against a brisk headwind, it occurred to me that it was Wednesday and I needed to write the blog.  It also occurred to me that by the time this is posted, I’ll be back in Seattle where it will most likely be the dead of summer and walking will need to be done either very early or else very late.

In a few minutes’ time we’ll be sailing away from the dock in the Port of Cork. It turns out this is the same dock from which the Titanic sailed in 1912.  On the far side of the dock is a billboard sized memorial marking the 100th anniversary of the Titanic’s departure. The memorial contains two pictures—one is a drawing of the doomed ship and while the other, a reproduction of an old photograph, shows some of the passengers waiting on the dock for what they no doubt expected to be the journey of their lifetimes.  And for most of it became the final journey of their lifetimes.

One of the things I’ve been thinking about as we travel is that these parts of the world are the places that most of our forebears left behind when the went to the New World in hopes of better lives and better futures for themselves and their children. There’s a shared history and a shared destiny here that has been in my heart and mind as we travel in turbulent times.

I’ve heard from my editor.  She likes what she sees in Proof of Life.  DEEP SIGH OF RELIEF HERE!!  But she also wants a Beaumont novella, and she wants it sooner than later, so my pleasure reading has come to a halt and I’m back at work—cruising and working.

I guess it’s a good thing I’m a woman.  That means I can do more than one thing at the same time!