on the eve of departure: 'less than ballistic'

We are all cramming in our last internet fixes - knowing we'll be out of touch the next five days ...

... the first of which looks to be Hades. After reviewing the latest weather forecasts Chewey sends out an email to his friends saying 'The wind hasn't totally abated, but we hope it will be less than ballistic.'

'Less than ballistic.' Looks like an a** kicking to me.

Having finished my chores in the a.m. I spent my last afternoon in Mexico luxuriating at Playa Chahue and the nearby hotel pool. The same wind that is likely to hammer us tomorrow afternoon made the beach delightful – slightly less humid, with a fresh, gusty breeze. After a while I left my lonely patch of playa – its pale, fine grit and tumultous crashing surf – for the hotel. Again I was the only one swimming, so I splashed and played and lapped the length of the pool (skirting the knobby seats at the swim-up bar) in the cool delicious water, and floated on my back looking at the frigate birds circling overhead. I continue to puzzle about why I’m here, what I’m doing – but my advisor tells me I’m ‘on the right track’ so I happily keep moving forward: even though the steps are wobbly and I can’t for the life of me see my destination. Some sort of passage or pilgrimage: I guess. Faithfully I move on -- I am eager, even excited, to experience what lies ahead!