La Isla Bonita

Like most of the posts this year, let me start by apologizing for dropping the blogging ball. I always mean to write more, but life has a funny way of interfering with those plans, and by that I mean, “Why does crazy shit always happen to me?” Allow me to elucidate… 

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.