I'd make a good beachcomber.

I waded into the Mediterranean Sea today. Took off my shoes and sox and rolled up my pants to above the knees. On the Porto Pino beach in Sardinia. A magnifcent beach. Two kilometers long. White sand. And lots of sand dunes. Only got up to my knees in the clear water. And it felt good. My true love thought it was far too cold to enter. She's a sissy Sardinian. The air temperature was around 50 degrees fahrenheit. And I know one thing. The water temperature was a lot warmer than Lake Superior in the summertime. So it was not an act of bravery or a foolhardy move on my part. Actually, if I had my bathing suit with me, I might have gone all the way in. For a swim. And I intend to. Before the winter is out. The day started sunny. But ended cloudy. A dark overcast. But my true love radiates the equivalent of sunshine. After a few hours walking the beach, we sauntered into a restaurant. I had an Italian sausage and a tomato salad and, for good measure, I snatched spaghetti from my true love's plate. Very delicious. All in all, a good day. I'd make a good beachcomber. Either that, or a shepherd. Maybe both. I could live a happy life that way. --Jim Broede