Jibe City, Windmills, Cactus Fences, Flamingo, KLM MD11 at Airport

November 23

Retrieved most of injured paraphernalia from various locales about the island, all in same woeful state as when parcelled out. Radio will wend its way back home manana as, possibly, the only better-made bit. Clearing out and subsequent return of assault weapon, flare gun should complete preparation for what promises to be a bumpy, downwind sail to Curacao Wednesday morning.

And now for the restaurant section. Should someone discover by chance, deviousness (perhaps your sig-o (abbreviation for significant other sounds suspiciously like sicko) has administered drugs from which you have just awoken (reference yesterday's query)) or conscious act, that your coordinates are consistent with Bonaire (you could check position on a cool new iPhone or just ask someone), find Mona Lisa Restaurant and stay for dinner. (I know the last sentence seems confusing, but diagram it like Mrs. McCaskel made you do in high school for perfect clarity) It's all been terrific: barracuda, wahoo, pork sate. Don't burn your tongue on the au gratin potatoes.

Flocks of flamingos will parade their plumage once I secure a scooter for investigating the island... tomorrow (reason, besides weather, for delaying until day after). Scheduled cruise ship necessitates early rental to preclude getting skunked, so ta ta.

Jack