Sleep - Eat - Sun - Eat - Sun - Eat - Sleep.
That's pretty much what we did for four straight days.
Thanks for reading!
If you know one thing about me, it's that I'm highly gifted and exceptionally talented at dragging out the simple and mundane and exhausting all of you with my incessant jaw-flapping. Just be glad it's not the 60's and you're here at my house where I've already set up the slide show. You know I would be that girl.
Here's where I'd like to start: What is it about vacation? What is it about sitting around reading books in the sun? I kept thinking - couldn't I just do this at home? For free?
The answer is - Nope.
Day after day I lounged in my chair and marveled at the vast completeness of the white space in my mind. No errands. No doctor's appointments. No grim hour of doom (aka homework). No meals to cook, laundry to fold. No alarms. Heck, no emails! All I had to do was roll myself out of bed, yank on my swimming suit, and walk a few paces to the pool, where I parked my rear and stuck my nose in a book.
It was altogether freeing.
Just go on a kidless vacation. I dare you.
And I highly recommend going with another couple. I don't know, it just works. But it's imperative - imperative! - that you have similar ideas about vacationing.
In our case: lazy/lazy. Boom.
(Although Timi did dare to run one morning and they both took a couple of real, bonafide "walks", so they're on probation. We had no choice. Just following the rules.)
#1: It highlights the exact moment that I fell dangerously in love with mocha almond fudge ice cream. (Timi got coffee instead, which is a double-dipped infraction if ever there was one.)
#2: The most hilarious conversation was happening just across the sidewalk from us.
Then, within a fraction of a second, the conversation took a dangerous turn for the creepy and gross and we spent the rest of the trip mentally scrubbing our brains with Clorox.
PS - I don't know why I'm making that look, except that Cory said I looked like I was throwing a gang sign with my cone and instinctively his comment threw me into this face, favored for facebook profile pics by many of the youngish urban girls we know and love. And yes, I know gangs aren't funny.
But sometimes they are. Like when an almost 40-year-old mom thinks she has even the slightest clue about them in her maxi skirt with her mocha almond fudge.
But mostly - not funny. You're right.
Research the complex relationship between cigar shops and large statues of Native American chiefs.
(I only know this is a "thing" because of that one episode of Seinfeld where they Indian-give the Indian statue. And now this.)
Okay, I still have 10 photos left to painstakingly detail and I'm only on day 1. I can't even handle the stress of my job right now! This always happens. I tell myself no one really cares about my vacation and that I should just choose my favorite 3-5 shots and be on my way. (Of course you're more astute than I and you know I'm immune to reason so you probably saw this coming.)
Stay tuned for parts II-VIII.
Until then, I'll leave you with one parting shot:
They begged to be commemorated. They terrified me.
Claw feet, my friends.