Last month my step-daughter, her mom and I went to Isla
Mujeres for vacation. When we were planning the trip, I asked my husband if it
was odd that his current wife and ex-wife were taking his daughter to Mexico,
and he said, “Nope. In fact, I think it speaks volumes for me that I have such great
taste in women.” And, since he made it all about him (instead of the fact that his
ex and I are good people who became good friends because we act like grown
adults), I replied, “Yup. And, just think… if you and I don’t make it, odds are
we’ll like your third wife, too.” I’m kidding. I love that man with all of my
heart. He’s not getting out of this marriage alive, and I think a very real
part of him knows that.
Anyway, I’m pleased to report that a great time was had by
all, including the day we went paddleboarding. Turns out, the only thing I know
how to surf is the Internet. My step-daughter, on the other hand, looked
magnificent: think Pocahontas standing on a large paddleboard… perfectly posed…
with the beach at her back... steering majestically through the waves and into the sunset. Me? I had
to lay down on the fucking thing and hold on for dear life, and not because I
got caught in one of the Gulf’s infamous eddies; but, because I had spent the
earlier part of that afternoon working my way through the resort’s bar menu. It’s
a little vacation tradition I like to call “Hakuna some vodka.”
At any rate, if you’re looking for a perfect place to unwind
for four days, Isla Mujeres is it! It’s this beautiful little island off the
coast of Cancun. Only don’t lose your Customs and Immigration documents like I
did, especially if you’re carrying a hand-painted Day of the Dead skull in your
carry-on as you try to leave the country. Yes. Really. Somehow, I left my form in
our hotel room and had to purchase an official replacement at the airport…
which meant the numbers didn’t match… which was a red flag already… compounded
by the fact that TSA scanned my purse… and saw the outline of a head.
Thankfully, however, because it was ceramic, I dodged the body cavity search…
this time. But not for lack of trying. That’s right, when they asked, “Is there
anything else in your bag that could cause alarm?” I actually said, “Just a few
bowls.” Upon seeing the globally-recognizable look of “Fucking really?” on the
guy’s face, I realized what I’d said and attempted to over-explain by
screaming, “OH MY GOD! NOT LIKE THAT! ARTISAN BOWLS MADE FROM ADOBE, SEA GRASS
AND PORCELAIN, I swear! Please do NOT get out latex gloves.” Thank God the guy
was bi-lingual (and could translate stupid PERFECTLY). Otherwise, I fear my purchases AND my dignity would have stayed
in Mexico.
With that, I'm off to work on edits to my book. Talk to you later.
