That’s right. Hubs and I are total pro’s. I’m sure you’re thinking: what kind of pro’s, pray tell? We are vacation professionals. Why this doesn’t count as some kind of specialty, I’m not sure. I do know this: we have this trip down to a total science to ensure 100% relaxation.
8 days, 7 nights
The same condo near the beach–our 9th time in the complex (the first time was at a fancy hotel down the road for our honeymoon).
Average daily temp: 83 F
Average night sleep: 9 hours
Average daily reading time: 4 hours
Average number of books read: 5 (I brought the average down but not by much this time)
Best meal: tie between bbq opah fish and tofu stir fry with korean style short ribs
Best sunset: every night was unique
Best wine: Monkey Bay Sauvignon Blanc (coincidentally, also the cheapest wine we bought)
Movies watched: 2 (this is a record for us)
Days tennis played: 4 (also a record)
Morning runs: 3 (not a record)
Trips out besides to the grocery store or to tennis: 0 (definitely a record)
Bottles of sunscreen used: 2 1/2 spf 50
Flight upgrades: both ways(!?!?) (completely unheard of–usually in-bound only if we’re lucky)
Number of pineapples consumed: 2 (mostly by me–yum)
My only question besides why the heck did we come home: when will we go back? There is something about that place that feels like home to me. Every day smells like summer–grass clippings, flowers blooming, kids splashing in the pools/ocean and tons of humidity (which I don’t mind much).
Don’t get me wrong. There is something great about coming home, too. But that island is like a Siren for me I guess. She’s in my head and my heart with a wonderful song. Whenever we leave, I make the promise to come back.
Books I read:
This Wicked World, by Richard Lange (pulpy, easy read)
Night Work, by Thomas Glavinic (existential and suspensful end-of-the-world fiction)
Mr. America, by Mark Adams (The mastermind of the Physical Culture movement–not much has changed in over a hundred years)
The Great Perhaps, by Joe Meno (Little Miss Sunshine meets The Life Aquatic=silly, weird, poignant)
Wetlands, by Charlotte Roche (not for the faint of heart and also a strange book)
Started: The Signal, by Ron Carlson (can already tell it’s beautifully written yet minimally verbose)
Pictures of the Pro’s:
Next up: Chili and BeerFest in Aspen, CO. Bubbles and beans? Sounds like trouble.