Sandy Musings

   

Scribbled in the air on a Delta cocktail napkin, Tuesday morning:

Our flight is bumpy, lumpy, and riddled with the usual array of "bad fliers" - two stinky, increasingly drunker hippie types in front of us, a snoring old man behind me to the left and an elderly woman with big hair "knowing it all" 3 seats in front.  Are we there yet? 

P.S. Someone just farted.

It was at this moment that Hubby whispered someone needs to check their pants.  I giggled for almost two minutes.  This was all before we arrived in paradise, and since then everything has been relaxed and refreshing.  Like a mojito...

Beachy Musings:

There are no cell phones here...no honking horns...I haven't dropped an F bomb all week.

There is only the sound of the water hitting the sand, hot sun upon my skin, and a tiny crab who hides in the sand when I try to take his picture.

Oh, and beer.  Buckets of beer.

We can't stop making fun of the burly, bronzed man to your right who wears the black Speedo thong.  (Yes, a Speedo as well as a thong.)  We've lovingly named him Thong Sarong Man (for he wears an orange sarong, as well.)  Two nights ago I even made up a theme song for him, though sadly, I forgot to write it down.

I feel very strongly that a Speedo thong resides in a category all its own.  Much like a shorty longback mullet (or Sho-Lo), it's business in the front and a party in the back.  I am a bad person for snapping Thong Sarong Man's picture.  Hubby made me do it. 

On Halloween, Hubby turned 29.  I tell him, as I do every year around this time, that I'm now in love with an older man.  He says this may take a while to get used to, maybe I should give it a month and a half or so.  (This is when I will turn 29.  Tee hee.)

That morning, Hubby has a dream.  He's working and has 17 tables to wait on and one of them is on the roof.  He has to keep taking the elevator up to the roof.  (I tell him we should definitely start doing yoga when we get back.)

I have a bone to pick with parents who make their children wear Speedos.  Much like the home perm of my youth, I find this choice in swimwear a form of child abuse.  (I suppose I'm still bitter about my shorty Longback childhood hairdo.  But still...)

On Thursday night I eat baked camembert with jelly.  I've been dreaming of it for the past year and it's really as good as I remembered.  Don't you love it when that happens?  I then go on to devour chicken smothered in gouda cheese and banana crepes.  And two cosmos.

Floating in the water, we start to ponder what Kittie is up to back home.  Our good friend James is staying with her and we concoct stories about Kittie mixing martinis, playing Dean Martin records and throwing "sexy" parties.

I have become obsessed with something called Arubian pastechi.  It's kind of like a croissant, though denser.  Sometimes it's filled with meat, sometimes with cheese, and sometimes simply a warm buttery goodness.  I exclaimed aloud when I tasted the latter.

Yesterday on the boat I thought perhaps I might lose my pastechi, though it all worked out just fine.

As far as tan lines are concerned, both of my feet have been mysteriously, seriously sunburned.  The only phrase I can think of to properly describe them is lobster red.  I'm not quite sure how this happened.  This is definitely not the look I am going for.

Lobster feet aside, vacation is certainly everything I hoped it would be and more.  We've watched sunsets from the warm water, had late night swims, creme brulee, and lots and lots of other delicious food.  I heart chimichurri sauce. 

My body still feels like it's rocking on water as I write this, though I'm sitting in our hotel room.  And with that, we're off to the beach.  After a pastechi or two. xoxo

 

Comments

[Sissy]

You are both bastards from hell, taunting us as we sit and stew in our lousy apartments going to our lousy jobs. I could fall of the wagon just looking at those pictures!! But alas, I am a good mother. I am not Britney Spears...I take care of my kid.

[Weinerdog]

Okay, I'm soooooo jealous!!!!!!

Also, I've recently discovered pictures of myself as a young latina splashing on the beaches of Venezuela wearing....... a speedo!

It is wrong....very wrong!

[Keely]

It looks beautiful! Happy Birthday to Hubby. Hope you guys are having fun!

[The Odd Broad]

-Sorry, Sister. Someday soon you will drink mojitios once more.

-Weenie, at least it wasn't a thong Speedo, right? Or perhaps it was originally a two piece swimsuit and you just did away with the top? Still, I am surprised Sheila dressed you in a Speedo...

-Thanks, Keely Bubs. We had so much fun! And I have NO tan lines. Teehee. xoxo

[Ma]

Your farting comment brought back painful memories of our six hour flight home from Ireland last year...I thought someone had poohed themselves...the smell was so bad during the entire 6 hour flight....as we were departing the plane, I found out what the smell was ..apparently the couple in front us us purchased fresh cheese from France and stored it above our seats!! Gotta love em...love, mommy

[The Odd Broad]

That's terrible! Cheese can be so smelly. I don't know how you and Dad lasted six hours!! As it was I kept holding my breath every time the smelly man in front of me got up to pee. And he was only mildly stinky. (b.o., cigarettes and booze.) xoxo