We just got back from vacation in the Sunshine State. OK, truth be told, I took a week off to unpack the rest of the boxes here, and then had a colonoscopy. There, I said it. But if you haven't been screened, do. And then follow up the scope with a nice trip to the beach.
We had a lovely condo overlooking the beach. I have to agree with the person whose guestbook entry read something to the effect of "our 17yo daughter walked in and said 'my life just got sooo much better.'" Cause yeah, it is that amazing of a place. We had crashing waves 24/7, right outside our window. Talk about good sleep...........I had the nuttiest of nutty dreams all week, and I loved it.
Here is what our days consisted of:
1. Get up and watch the sun rise on the left. Possibly go back to bed.
2. Watch the dolphins move from east to west in front of the balcony. Possibly go back to bed again.
3. Eat breakfast, complete with wonderful coffee, custom made by my private chef.
4. Spend most of the morning trying to decide how to spend the day.
5. End up on beach chair under an umbrella, with a cooler and a good book.
6. Go back to room and assess the damage.
7. Take a nap.
8. Decide where dinner will be.
9. Dinner. Sadly, no good seafood was to be found. Sadness.
10. Back to condo, where he watched TV and I read till sleep took over.
::and repeat::
Happily, we got to see the Bratty Gurl and The Intended several times. They took advantage of our cable to watch Walking Dead one night because yes, when you haven't seen your mom for two months, the first thing you want to do is figure out how to steal the remote. That's my girl. And after a blissful nine days, we headed home again.
Somewhere in Alabama, we listened to 93.3 Y'ALL, a radio station with the tag line "we're a hot mess." And they really are: Hank Williams followed by Guns N Roses, then One Direction followed by Sam Cooke........you get the idea. Totally bonkers. Of course then we passed the sign that said "Go To Church or The Devil Will Get You," replendent with a big red Satan on it. Good stuff. Somewhere a bit further north, my brain exploded when I heard "Lisa Mitchell plays the most music on" whatever random station the radio was on. (Yes, I left my iPod at home, much to Jim's consternation. Somewhere in southern Tennessee he said quite emphatically "I wish you'd brought your iPad (sic). I want to hear some Gaga." Can't help lovin that man 'o mine....... Alas, without the Nano to entertain him, he was left to his own devices. And this man is never bored.
Now let me tell you, my boo is an interesting one to ride in the car with. Our trips generally start with him putting on his seat belt while telling me not to kill him. Of course, my driving hasn't killed anyone yet, but I guess he figures that the admonishment will keep the phone poles at bay. Once we start down the street, he starts narrating. It goes like this: "oh look, there's a UPS Store......CVS....China Buffet right next to Chik-fil-A..." and so on. FOR MILES. It's a good thing I worked in the nursery for so many years, cause girlfriend can tune out just about anything. That being said, somewhere in Tennessee, the drivers lost their minds, driving by us like the Millenium Falcon at warp speed. That was about the time my boo began his impression of Darryn McGavin in "A Christmas Story."
"Oh look, that tree is pretty, but where are the flaming red maples. HOLY $#@&! What was that guy doing? Driving like a #$**!! Oh look, there's a gas station at this next exit. Do we need gas? OMG LOOK OUT that &#@) is driving right up you @#*! Oh look, there's a water wheel....." Yep. Sometimes the Marine comes out with very little warning. Loudly. And since I can't get the man to relax and let me do the driving, and God knows he can't go to sleep -- he might miss a Stuckey's sign -- I just laugh. It's pretty entertaining if you just roll with it, and God knows it's better than the days of travelling with an infant with an ear infection, or a toddler with motion sickness. It's really funny to see what will fly out of his mouth next, Goofus, Gallant, or Gunnery Sergeant Hartman. I did, however, draw the line as we got closer to Nashville, telling him quite sternly that he could not A) narrate or B) shout in consternation as I drove through the city, or we truly MIGHT both die.
It was at that point that I realized that his pre-travel command to not kill him might, in fact, be serious, because the man became silent as a tomb. Even past several billboards featuring Carrie Underwood in a corset. As in, not one decibel. For miles. Through construction, detours, and past several police officers at the ready. Boyfriend SHUT. IT.DOWN. Until he saw the next Cracker Barrel sign, at which point it was on like Donkey Kong. And he narrated the entire way back home to Indiana.
So now we are home again, and intend to stay so until after the wedding. And that's all I've got to say abou that.
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