When she, who rises at 5:00am or earlier, is, at 8:30, still abed (after having extinguished the light at 10:00pm the night before) you know the idea of being on holiday has been embraced. Couple that with the fact that she is less than half a day from experiencing a seven hour time zone change and the restful sound she makes before awakening amazes all the more; jet lag is no match for her. B⁴ has slept the sleep of a non-CEO. There was no trainer to meet before dawn; in fact, no fitness center to beckon. There were no sales numbers to anticipate and analyze, no meeting to chair, no Warren letter to pen., no "Phone-A-Friend" discount to negotiate, no jewelry favor to work on, no lease to ponder and no personnel to motivate, educate, elevate or terminate. There was for her only the Hotel Moresco's bed and pillow shrouded in a darkened room serenaded by a humming blower, all perfectly suited to her immediate needs.

From the dim light of my computer screen as I scoured google news, she moved not at all; unaware of the glow or gentle keyboard clicking. Venice has had its way with her. Yes, there was a full bottle of prosecco last evening and good fish to eat. Yes, the ten-thousand step goal from yesterday was surpassed and yes, the sleep of the previous night was short and in an aircraft. Still, with all those contributing factors, I dared not dream that she could or would relax so completely so rapidly. She is happy; therefore, so I am.

Breakfast at the Moresco is in the lovely garden where the songs of birds are occasionally interrupted by the low groan of a passing boat in the canal that lies over the high brick wall. The sun shines but we are in the shade and the temperature has yet to break 75 degrees. There is good American coffee—as much as we like—along with fried eggs and crispy bacon and flakey croissants and toast and her first taste of Nutella (rejected as being merely chocolate and morning is not the time for chocolate).

The woman at an adjacent table has a diamond and emerald ring but it is I who takes notice, not her. She is on the iPhone, true; but her interest is in the U.S. Government’s OPM hacking difficulties and how that might impact her beloved son. Finally, much later than I had imagined, she looked for the sales numbers but they were not there. Usually posted around four in the morning, she had to stop and compute whether they were late or she was early. It was the latter but it didn’t feel that way.

Ah, holidays. This is one reason to travel. You get to leave your burdens behind. She has. It is good.

FLASH FORWARD: At 7:10 this evening, from our Stateroom 9000 balcony which is front facing, I remind B⁴ that we have 8:00 reservations at Cagney’s, the steak place. She says, “Very well, I will go get ready.”

“What do you have to do?” I asked.

“Fix my hair and change clothes and check email,” she says. OK. So, I was just a tiny bit wrong on the vacation mindset thing.

BACK TO REAL TIME: We were twenty minutes late vacating room 103 at the Hotel Moresco for no good reason at all. We are just not in a hurry. Check out time is noon and our phone rang at ten after inquiring after our intentions. At checkout we had several questions for the concierge regarding our return to Venice one week hence. Ursula has recommended a trip to an island (90 minutes one way) and Alana has recommended a cooking class (high on Beryl’s list, barely registering on mine) and several say go buy Murano glass. In any event, we’ll be back and we shall see what we shall see.

We walked, or should I say we towed our bags, two blocks, over a bridge spanning a canal, up a pathway, through a narrow walkway and on a bit until we reached the “People Mover” where 1.3 Euros per person buys a ride on a tram to the Bacino Della Stazione Marittima, or the Martime Pier where the Norwegian Jade awaits. Moored adjacent to the Jade is the Royal Caribbean Splendor of the Seas, the Cunard Queen Victoria, two MSC vessels and an Italian ship the AIDA something or other. That means that six cruise ships were in port this day. That’s fifteen thousand—or more—tourists all headed to Piazza San Marco and other leading “must-sees.” It’s no wonder that I have read that the cruise industry is both bane and boon for Venice.

Upon arrival at the embarkation point for the Jade, we are spotted as Suite Guests and shuffled off to a private registration place for passport checking, photo taking, credit card swiping, and, after a bit of confusion, swept aboard with an escort who deftly maneuvered our carry-on bags. The entire procedure took thirty minutes or so and we are privileged in that regard as other non-suite guests are cued in a more cumbersome manner.

9000 is front facing, a place where I have never before sailed. Our stateroom is larger than that to which I am accustomed with a sitting area and a table with four chairs occupying extra square footage. At the front of our habitat is a window and not a sliding glass door as is customary but, instead, a wooden hinged door. Opening it, we find that it leads to a steel bulkhead door with a giant unlocking lever. Operating it after a few false starts it swung open to reveal a very large patio with two chaise lounges and a bench beyond which spanned a 180 degree view of where we’re going. The massive door makes us wonder about exactly what the elements must do to our exterior space when we’re under way. That revelation awaits us.

We enjoy lunch and a drink and soon it is time for the mandatory lifeboat drill. As all ship’s services shut down, we make our way to muster station A9 which is in the balcony of the Stardust Theatre where we spend twenty-two minutes for what turned out to be a thirty-second demonstration of how to don a lifejacket.

That complete, we made our way back to 9000 where we uncorked the complimentary bottle of champagne, finished unpacking and, as we sailed, walked to our spacious lookout position and watched Venice slide by as we maneuvered the Grand Canal to the edge of the breakwater and beyond. We communicate, but not well, with our front-facing-suite neighbors and then decide it is time to make ready for dinner.

Our discounted passage includes both the “Unlimited Drink Package” (a risky perk) and the “Specialty Dining Package.” In advance, I have booked a different specialty restaurant for each night. Tonight is Cagney’s Steakhouse.

We both opt for the bone-in rib eye which is, frankly, delicious and succulent and tender and flavorful. I am impressed. We talk business. It is a wonderful evening as we ponder the future of the jewelry business as malls decline and what must be done about it.

Then we are off to the sailaway first night show in the theatre. The singers sing and the dancers dance and the jugglers juggle and the “Fourevers” croon and the cruise director preans and pontificates. Next we stroll to the piano bar where the guitarist is performing Beatles, Queen, Eagles, Beach Boys and more. After a bit of him—he’s quite good on his steel-stringed guitar enhanced by an iPad which is doing amazing things—we do one circuit of the outside promenade deck and head to bed.

The day, finished I thought, is wrapped up instead with a check of email for B⁴ . She is concerned. A shooter has broken the normal Saturday afternoon shopping at the Coral Ridge Mall in Iowa. Her associates managed to drop the gates and alarm the store but had no time to drop the cases or pull merchandise. They left for safety under the direction of mall management. B⁴ is parental in her reaction to this caring about her people and not worrying about her merchandise.

The forecast is for rough weather in the wee hours so B⁴ dons a seasick patch in anticipation of rocking and rolling overnight. Me? I can’t wait. I always slept well in a hammock.