I’ve never met anybody who didn’t enjoy, once in a while, a bit of undiluted leisure. Oh, I have known a few workaholics, but even they had their moments of pure distraction and inactivity.

This week Carol Ann and I are keeping watch over two teenagers while their parents are in Ethiopia collecting two newly adopted children – a brother and sister. This is an easy assignment. The kids – they are adults in many ways – are a joy to be with.

They live in a spacious home in a gated community on the west coast of Florida, which makes getting out for a power walk a more or less safe thing to do. I could use that perk where I live in Maine, but, alas, it isn’t there on our twisty shoulder-less roads with pickups and log trucks whizzing by.

There is a feature of the house that is called by the real estate/building industry a lanai. It’s actually a screened in back patio with a pool. I suppose that’s enough of a hybrid concoction that a fancy Hawaiian name like lanai is indeed appropriate. What it is is the most enjoyable place to lie about and read, dip one’s body into soothing waters, fall into a restful nap or sample some distilled sprit in the late afternoon. Leisure.

We just recently got back from a week in Canada and we didn’t stop the whole time. Can’t really say it was a leisurely vacation. Can’t say this is actually a vacation but there is a major leisure component.

I have this friend who makes snide remarks about me living the high life as a member of the leisure class down here. I tell him I have certain responsibilities and can not avoid the leisure part. I had to work at it, but finally can spend a major part of the afternoon reading, dipping, falling and sampling without even a tinge of guilt. I could get used to this. But alas, this is not real life.

Friday these two new Americans will arrive and this specious home will become the Dance Hall of Life – all over again. I better rest up for the homecoming. Probably a few hours relaxing in the lanai would do the trick.