The events of this day were subtle and sublime. I felt as though I was finally getting into the subdued swing of things onboard ship. The immensity of the sea took on palpable form. The rise and fall of ocean swells created a visual rhythm more compelling than the natural pattern of breath and release, breath and release, which usually dictates our state of mind and comportment.

There was developing as well a true sense of community, for even though the Queen Mary 2 is the second largest passenger liner afloat and the oceanic home to over 3,000 human beings, faces were indeed becoming familiar, both passenger and crew alike. The mid-corridor greetings became more genuine, resonating as they were with recognition, and the recollection of salutations having been exchanged previously. More than a few passengers remarked at having seen us attending the theatrical performances in the Royal Court Theatre, or seen us bidding at the art auctions, commenting at how easy we were to spot. [This latter fact I attribute to the fact that neither Jan nor I are using canes, wheelchairs, electric scooters, or yellow tennis-ball tipped walkers.]

The food remains superb and abundant; though I have actually managed to cut down on the in-between meal snacks (an odd term considering food is available 24 hours a day). It is slowly getting through my thick skull that there is actually plenty of food onboard ship and odds of any one meal being my last before setting out in lifeboats is pretty remote. Jan continues to exercise daily and I hate her for that.

The weather has broken and the temperature is delightful. Due to our cruising along at 28 knots, there is always a stiff breeze on deck, but the swells have subsided and the stabilizers are providing us with a remarkably smooth ride.

Today we discovered parts of the ship we hadn't even known were there. This is in itself very strange and uncommon and even slightly embarrassing. Usually, when I get on board a new ship I traverse every square inch of it to make sure I get down the lay of the land (so to speak). This voyage however it has taken the better part of a week for us to discover one of the largest public spaces (the Queen's Room), and two additional drinking establishments, both with stunning views. This is either a testament to my getting older and slower or the true manifestation of the behemoth that is QM2 (let's opt for the latter explanation). We also discovered two elevators right below the bridge that traverse the superstructure on the outside, much like the glass elevators in many five-star hotels.

This evening, as we entered the Britannia Restaurant for dinner, we were greeted literally by the featured main course: Hawaiian moon fish. This massive blue and red fish, stunningly beautiful in its natural state, yet so forlorn as it lay propped up on blocks of ice, was oddly disturbing. I normally do not shy away from the realities of food. I *know* you have to kill and dismember cows in order to carve out a filet mignon, and I always reveled in Randy Pausch's advice to students that 'sausages and movies share something in common: if you really like them then you sure don't want to see either being made.” I absolutely love sausages and *know* they contain parts of the animal usually reserved for pet food.

What struck me as 'wrong' though was the thought this majestic fish was being used as decoration rather than sustenance. I share with rock n' roll maniac Ted Nugent the thought that if you kill an animal you sure as hell better intend on eating it (insects excluded, of course). So, I felt the least I could do was order Hawaiian moon fish for dinner. Happily, the preparation was impeccable, the flavor intense, the aftertaste just right, with the result being that I now have a new favorite fish!

The evening's entertainment was the weakest of the cruise so far. A supposedly renowned Aussie singer by the name of Derek Metzger took the stage. I suspected things might be rough when none of our Australian friends had ever heard of this “renowned” singer and countryman. His set consisted of songs that both Jan and I rank as among tunes we hate the most. When he told the story about a fellow performer who made it big in the London production of 42nd Street by the name of Catherine Zeta-Jones one sensed just a slight bit of rancor.

For some strange reason every singer on this leg of the cruise has decided to put together a rousing tribute and medleys of songs by Harold Arlen. While justifiably famous, I don't think I have ever heard such a string of tributes to this American songwriter. Book-ending this tribute to Harold Arlen was, inexplicably, lyrical odes to none other than Al Jolson! I accept the passengers onboard this ship as being ancient, but very few of them are old enough to remember Al Jolson. Add to that the fact that here it is 2007 and we have singers from the USA and Australia on their knees singing Mammy and the 'surreal-meter' starts to register off the charts. The only thing missing frankly was blackface.

The evening concluded in the Empire Casino where we made our nightly contribution to the Cunard Cruise Line Charity for Indigent Sailors. All in all it was a calming day despite combing over two hours worth of email. The joy in that however lay in the fact that ETC-Pittsburgh, ETC-Silicon Valley, and ETC-Australia are in such capable hands and are moving forward with unified purpose and focus. That realization, combined with sunny days and cool ocean breezes, is more than enough to relax the mind and soothe the spirit.