the_atlantic water lillies for starters, there was a refrigerator icemaker that dispensed perfectly crushed ice at my every whim. really, I have a crazy thing for crushed ice. and a bag of the freshest, sweetest cherries, with juice so startlingly red that every time the bebes bit into one it looked as if they'd been drinking blood. the fantastic private pool meant that I could prance (yes, prance) around the place in my favorite, oldest and most faded two-piece swimsuit with no one (and by no one, I mean other women) sizing up every square inch of my body. oh, the freedom! I almost passed out from joy. viva a sarong-free life and my husband makes me feel like the most beautiful creature on this earth. oh, and diving for the first time in years (did you know it's like riding a bike?) and drinking homemade strawberry slushees by the pool. mornings at the beach went beyond all the playing-- like a trip to the spa, babies. a sand-covered body meant that for once, my feet were wickedly smooth and clean, my skin soft and brown and my hair wavy from sea water. there was the shell-collecting, which I love. I really, really love to do this. nevermind that we didn't get around to making the shell boxes and necklaces that I always think we're going to make. also: a spotless, most cavernous tub into which I poured way too much bubble bath. I think I must be out of touch with the whole bubble bath thing because when I switched on the jets, I thought I might (quickly) be buried alive by cucumber-melon scented bubbles. the beginnings of panic set in (a little I love lucy-ish, yes?) but still, it was a bath-- a hot and bubbly one at that. and there was the bed with the impossibly soft white sheets. it called out to me (earlier and earlier) each night. sleep is a most delicious thing when you embrace it whole-heartedly. 121001 what's it to you? who go blather from