Yeah mon, we are home from Jamaica. There is no excitement in my hands as I type. Life as it returns to normal sucks compared to paradise. I was really happy to see my babies, but everything else could’ve waited another week! After 8 days of fun, sun, and rum, I’m thinking of using my liver as a doorstop. But boy was it worth it. Over the next several days and weeks you will see various posts complete with pics to chronicle our Jamaican holiday, this is not one of them. Rather it is more an epilogue or postlude, if you will, than a regurgitation of the week…an elegant prose of life and style:
We were sitting at Margaritaville at the Montego Bay airport waiting to fly home…enjoying a Cheeseburger in Paradise…when we were exposed to a glimpse of a lifestyle I have never quite seen up close in real life. They have been portrayed in film and TV and even by fiction writers. But never had I truly seen an entire gaggle (herd? posse? pack? flock?) of swingers. Not the porch grandparents or playground moms, but swingers…as in couples swapping counterparts. You know, the one’s that participate in what Ryan calls the competitive sport for the ugly?
I have visions of swingers being hot young couples that occasionally dabble in one another’s batter, but what we saw was anything but…I will spare you the details. Their annual trip to Hedonism III should sum it up pretty well. Let’s just say my vision has been shattered and in its place a new mental picture now resides. Hey I don’t judge, whatever floats their boats (or chaps) is cool with me. Damn the luck though, middle aged beatnik leftovers are not my ideal picture of swinging couples. I just hope my vision of Lipstick Lesbians doesn’t get shattered by the same reality check! Peace out mon, remember the world is full of all kinds of people…and it’s really entertaining to finally see them!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
Concentration- Out The Door!
This is a particularly difficult week for me. As most weeks are difficult in many ways, concentration is always the race leader...this week it is MIND NUMBINGLY painful. I can barely type. I can barely complete a single tiny little thought. I am doing good in the morning to put on matching shoes, who cares about the socks. I am having to clip, chain, buckle, strap, or tie anything and everything to my body to keep from losing it. I leave tomorrow for Chicago for three days upon which I return to the fulfillment of a year long wait for Jamaica. Rum. Beach. Sun. SWIM UP BAR! Sun. Beach. Rum. Did I mention NO WORK?
This week is the culmination of my year long wait. The anticipation, which has been steadily building week after week...hey look it's raining out...uh where was I? Oh yeah, steadily building pressure and this week I am so full of the anticipation I am about to explode. The next three days are going to be TORTURE! I have been practicing how to maintain for the duration of my wait. It involves a lot of head nodding, hmms, and very little spoken word. If words are required, I have trained myself to simply say one of three options depending on the situation: "I understand", "that's interesting", or "let me check it out and get back to you". Sun. Beach. Rum. Mmm vacation...
This week is the culmination of my year long wait. The anticipation, which has been steadily building week after week...hey look it's raining out...uh where was I? Oh yeah, steadily building pressure and this week I am so full of the anticipation I am about to explode. The next three days are going to be TORTURE! I have been practicing how to maintain for the duration of my wait. It involves a lot of head nodding, hmms, and very little spoken word. If words are required, I have trained myself to simply say one of three options depending on the situation: "I understand", "that's interesting", or "let me check it out and get back to you". Sun. Beach. Rum. Mmm vacation...
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Trouble Again
It tends to be a staple in our house...friends ask, are you in trouble...my standard response: "I am always in trouble, would you please be more specific?" But this past week, I knew it was trouble from the moment I uttered those words.
It started three weeks ago when I went to the mountains to Truck's cabin for a night of drink and solace which turned out to be a night of survival and scars. As the beer flowed and the confidence grew, we decided it a good idea to rummage through the rocky crests of the War Eagle River on our 4wheelers. Mental note: always heed the good advice of those older and wiser when they expel their wisdom "nothing good can come of this." They are always right.
Picture it...we are traversing through the darkness and the babbling water...I suddenly stumble upon a rock. Hmm...my wheeler seems to be high-centered. So I do the logical thing and step off...proceed to shake it about ferociously trying to dislodge it from its watery plateau.
This is where the trouble begins. As I stand in waist deep water, my wedding ring flies into the darkness with a distant splash into the water. Ohh...this cannot be good.
It slipped off like I had dipped my hands in a vat of clarified butter at a crab leg buffet!
It is a simple white gold band which has become increasingly loose on my ring finger with my fortuitous weight loss (my jubilation has been temporarily sidestepped due to my impending marital woes). It is gone. Vanished into the night and the dark water below. I might add at this point of the story the time is roughly midnight.
I begin to panic. No I take that back, I begin to freak out. The anxiety of facing my red-headed wife with the idea that I could lose my wedding band...INCONCEIVABLE! I must find it...so I must exhaust all efforts! I must search like hell to find it or face the wrath of the non-understanding gender. You see, guys like to do shit like this. Girls do not. When asked why we do shit like this our response is simply, "because it's cool". Need I say more?
They do not see it in the same way. Nuff said.
We search in vain for more than half an hour, to no avail. The shiny silver object was ner to be found even though I am subconsciously drawn to shiny objects from miles away. I give up and relent to the forces of the river. It is gone, never to be seen again!
At this point I declare a moment of peace, even so much as a moment of silence. I will just have to fess up and explain the situation. I am sure she will understand. Then reality sets in...WTF? HOW AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS??
With a calm and collected outlook, I sternly proclaim the search to be over. Truck starts up his bike and speeds forward as I start my bike to proceed. Then, as if a moment of divine light has shone over the river bed, something cosmically phenomenal makes me turn and look over my shoulder. From the reflection of my friend's bike on a rock far ahead, I see the hint of a sparkle. Could it be my ever-sought shiny silver object? COULD IT BE?
It was found! Holy Lord it was found! It lie about 15 feet from the back of my bike and I knew at that point there could be no worse for me to fare!
I was wrong.
TO BE CONTINUED...
It started three weeks ago when I went to the mountains to Truck's cabin for a night of drink and solace which turned out to be a night of survival and scars. As the beer flowed and the confidence grew, we decided it a good idea to rummage through the rocky crests of the War Eagle River on our 4wheelers. Mental note: always heed the good advice of those older and wiser when they expel their wisdom "nothing good can come of this." They are always right.
Picture it...we are traversing through the darkness and the babbling water...I suddenly stumble upon a rock. Hmm...my wheeler seems to be high-centered. So I do the logical thing and step off...proceed to shake it about ferociously trying to dislodge it from its watery plateau.
This is where the trouble begins. As I stand in waist deep water, my wedding ring flies into the darkness with a distant splash into the water. Ohh...this cannot be good.
It slipped off like I had dipped my hands in a vat of clarified butter at a crab leg buffet!
It is a simple white gold band which has become increasingly loose on my ring finger with my fortuitous weight loss (my jubilation has been temporarily sidestepped due to my impending marital woes). It is gone. Vanished into the night and the dark water below. I might add at this point of the story the time is roughly midnight.
I begin to panic. No I take that back, I begin to freak out. The anxiety of facing my red-headed wife with the idea that I could lose my wedding band...INCONCEIVABLE! I must find it...so I must exhaust all efforts! I must search like hell to find it or face the wrath of the non-understanding gender. You see, guys like to do shit like this. Girls do not. When asked why we do shit like this our response is simply, "because it's cool". Need I say more?
They do not see it in the same way. Nuff said.
We search in vain for more than half an hour, to no avail. The shiny silver object was ner to be found even though I am subconsciously drawn to shiny objects from miles away. I give up and relent to the forces of the river. It is gone, never to be seen again!
At this point I declare a moment of peace, even so much as a moment of silence. I will just have to fess up and explain the situation. I am sure she will understand. Then reality sets in...WTF? HOW AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS??
With a calm and collected outlook, I sternly proclaim the search to be over. Truck starts up his bike and speeds forward as I start my bike to proceed. Then, as if a moment of divine light has shone over the river bed, something cosmically phenomenal makes me turn and look over my shoulder. From the reflection of my friend's bike on a rock far ahead, I see the hint of a sparkle. Could it be my ever-sought shiny silver object? COULD IT BE?
It was found! Holy Lord it was found! It lie about 15 feet from the back of my bike and I knew at that point there could be no worse for me to fare!
I was wrong.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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