What I'm not doing while on vacation is

going to the aquarium in Atlanta, which my boys did with my father. Henry took this fantastic photo of a seahorse -- my very favorite sea animal. It was almost as good as being there.

So weird and mysterious, like they're from another universe altogether.

Sophie is recovering from her bad fall but has had a fever for a few days, off and on. It's unrelated to the accident, and I think she's just run-down. I continue to languish like some sort of nineteenth century convalescent confined to bed (not mine), reading books, murmuring sweet things to my children and feeling wilted in the unrelenting heat.  I wish I were as thin as those tubercular poets were, though. Ha.
I feel as if I've drifted into and out of consciousness these past three weeks, the boredom punctuated by moments of crisis that sharpen me, but only momentarily. Then it's back to some strange planet. Speaking of strange planets, the proliferation of political billboards out here in Georgia and South Carolina highways far outnumbers those in southern California. I drove from South Carolina yesterday and saw this fine one:

GOD IS NOT A SOCIALIST!

Right underneath this informative message was this:

BILLBOARDSAGAINSTOBAMA.COM

I'd like to say that I roll my eyes and condescendingly think those people are stupid or ridiculous or whatever. But I feel a tinge of fear. I feel unwelcome. I even yearn for Hollywood's simple billboards touting bad movies and sleazy reality shows. 

We leave for Los Angeles on Wednesday and I'm about as excited as those miners were who set out West, looking for gold.