"Hurry, you have to come and see this," Alvin calls as I'm tending to the morning chores. National Geographic, "Eat Your Heart Out". We have the most unusual spider like creature engaged in a continuous tribal dance on our full-length bedroom window. He is 6-legged with an odd tube-shaped body. The 2nd half of his legs are white and the best description I can give is similar to that of a daddy long legs, but not. His upper and lower legs are steadily planted while his legs on either side of his body move rhythmically in an upbeat dance motion. We're both mesmerized with this strange little thing as he doesn't miss a beat in the longest time. Suddenly he speeds up moving even faster than before. Okay, I can't be watching this thing all morning as I must have my shower now, as I slowly move towards the bathroom having a bit of a time taking my eyes off this "thing".

The on-demand hot water tank is not co-operating as well as usual today. Hot and then cold, low pressure, no pressure. Maybe their water storage tank is in need of filling or something! I hurriedly towel dry off to check on my little friend. "Is he still dancing, I anxiously ask?" Alvin replies that he's tired himself out and lost step and even having difficulty walking. Well, I guess I would to after a performance like that!

We check our emails and like the old adage goes, no news is good news. I try Skyping (online internet phoning) Dustin and Shannon but neither can hear me so it's a bit of a short one-sided conversation. We go to our favorite tucked away little (warung) restaurant for a mid-morning piping hot bowl of delicious seafood soup. While there we peruse the previous evenings designs and try to choose which, if any, we will actually create. Sometimes it's difficult as we can both be slightly biased to our own design. That's when assistance from our trusted cooks come in handy.

Lots of morning traffic today as it's the start of the new week or perhaps the beautiful weather has awakened the more than usual crowd on the streets.

Wayan's little girl greets us with her usual wide-eyed look of anticipation as she wonders if her Mandarin oranges have arrived too. She knows she'll have to be quick today as there are at least 10 children having the same thought. She lets out a big scream as her brother snatches the bag of oranges from her grasp and darts off into the backyard.

"Sorry, Angelique," Wayan says in his quiet voice as he looks toward me sheepishly... There have been many ceremonies recently and it will be a few more days until I have samples of your designs ready, so sorry. "Yes, Wayan, okay, no problem. Although I would've much rather said something else!

We head back to Ubud and shortly after leaving Wayan's house our motorbike stalls and after several attempts still fails to start. That's great what now, I quietly think to myself as I ponder on the nearby surroundings. Look there's a repair shop just up the street on the right. He doesn't speak English and we're not too fluent in Balinese yet either but at least he grasps that the bike won't start. I'm hoping that he'll give us priority as he has half a dozen other bikes sitting in wait. The sign on the painted white wall says, We repair Yamaha, Honda, Vespas, etc, etc. Okay, I think we're in good hands here anyway. After a little poking and prodding the problem seems to stem from a build up of carbon. After a lot of engine reving with enormous amounts of billowing black smoke coming from the exhaust of the bike it seems to be, in running order and we're back on the road again. I hope we return to Ubud before that ominous black cloud decides to let loose in all it's fury. The weather's been hot and sunny till mid-afternoon and then there's typically a good 2-3 hour downpour.

We're back in time for a quick dinner followed by my 6:30 massage. I've had a standing Monday evening appointment with an amazing therapist "Dewa", who appropriately calls his business "Golden Hands," since arriving. I thoroughly enjoy a heavenly, 90-minute "Take me to another planet massage, " for $7. He's in high demand and I certainly know why.

Upon returning to our apartment my downstairs neighbor pipes up in his over-zealous, somewhat boisterous tone, "Angelique, do you remember my friend Dee?" Well, of course I think to myself, there's only been 7 girlfriends in the last 10 days coming and going, how could I forget? Is the cycle repeating itself, I can't help but wonder? Don Juan is alive and well and hanging out next door to us in Bali.... naughty ole boy...