Bonanza Jellybean

The Unforseen Suckage Levels of Vacation

Suckage.
Total.

• It was 106 degrees. All week.
• The humidity was 99%. Stick your face in CoolWhip and inhale. You'll get the idea.
• The bugs managed to find the one spot where the bug spray didn't completely reach. Or the several spots. Like 482 individual spots on four people. Good thing we used bug spray.
• The dog we took with us got homesick. Thankfully, he didn't get carsick.
• I stepped in dog shit in my new running shoes exactly 37 seconds after we got there.
• The friend for Soccer Chick we took along is prone to migranes. And allergies. And felt the need to tell me gum could help me quit smoking every time I smoked.
• A crab bit my toe. OK, PINCHED. But it fucking well hurt anyway, whatever the little bastard did. I still have a little crabby print on my toe.
• The sight of fishermen reeling in stingray after stingray kept the girls out of the water.
• The island where we were has decided that they don't want to be all tacky like other beaches, so there are a ton of trees and little teeny signs for everything. And no tall buildings. Which means that you can't find a single fucking place you're looking for and are forced to wander aimlessly about until you find something comprable. Which made trying to find a grocery store an adventure.
• Finding a grocery store on vacation should never be an adventure.
• I actually found a tick attached to my kid's back.
• The air conditioning in the restaurant we picked for our one night out was broken.
• The restaurant also turned out to not have a bar.
• All the condo neighbors knew my mother and felt the need to talk to me like I was as interested in random conversation with strangers as she is.
• I had to buy a new bathing suit because the strap broke on mine, and when I tried to put it on the card, I discovered that the auto parts Dutch Oven needed to order had charged my card THREE TIMES rather than allowing me to have my new bathing suit.
• I stood in front of a store in 106 degree heat and 99% humidity arguing with MasterCard for 20 minutes. Before breakfast.
• We came home to find all the horses loose in the yard, including drinking out of the swimming pool. And leaving big mouthfulls of grass behind as a gift to the filter.
• Five minutes after we got home, while we were attempting to round up horses in 106 degree heat, my mother showed up and informed us that she was meeting my sisters at my house.
• Sisters that didn't show up for another three hours.
• I came home and tried to book our vacation TO WONDERFUL CLEAR-WATERED FLORIDA (where you can actually see what's about to take a chomp out of your ass while it's still approaching) and found that they don't book that far in advance. But have 300 square feet for sale for $200,000.
• Which looked totally reasonable at the time.
• The girls had their first soccer game of the season this morning.
• I let a 9 year old spray me with suncreen before the game.
• My arms now resemble a rosy-hued zebra-print.
• It's still 106 degrees.

The good news? We didn't see a single jellyfish. Or shark.
The other good news? Vacation's over.

I Don't Remember the Go-Gos Mentioning Jellyfish

We're leaving for a MUCH-needed vacation the beach today (so my superb return will now be interrupted by several days of a cheap relative's refusal to install internet in a condo, but I digress...).

Have we packed?
Ummmm...
Are we prepared at all?
Ummmm...

We suck, basically.

I think my obvious lack of enthusiasm has something to do with the fact that we can't afford to go back to my ultra-favorite beach-side high-rise condo WITH BAR in Florida this year. Damn that husband and his bionic knees and the bills that never seem to end. And the rising costs of feeding a crowd of 1000lb. yard ornaments. Damn being financially responsible and leaving money in savings.

Fuck savings.

I miss Florida.

So we're leaving work early to rush home, throw some underwear in a bag, clean out the car, and leave in a rush, making sure that the three things we will absolutely need when we get there will be left sitting on the kitchen counter. Like the sunscreen, the keys to the condo, and probably our child.

And to top it all off...
The friend Soccer Chick is taking with her reported to me on the phone this weekend...

Friend: Have you seen the news?

Me: No... why?

Friend: There's a BUNCH of jellyfish in the water where we're going because the water's so warm. They said 200 people got stung Saturday!

Me: We do have a pool, you know. Jellyfish don't like pools. They have problems crossing the street to get to them.

Friend: (obviously not listening to a word I said) I AM NOT GOING IN THAT WATER WHERE THE JELLYFISH CAN EAT ME.

Me: Technically, they only sting you. Jellyfish don't eat you. Sharks eat you. Did they mention sharks at all?

Friend: I don't like jellyfish. Sharks are OK.

Soccer Chick: (eavesdropping from the other room) Jellyfish!! I don't want to swim with jellyfish!!

Me: ENOUGH WITH THE DAMN JELLYFISH, CHILDREN. I promise we will do our best to swim in stinging creature free waters, OK? You don't have to swim with the jellyfish. Besides, if they sting you, all you have to do is pee on it and the sting goes away.

Friend and Soccer Chick: EEEWWWWWWWWW!!

Which was the desired result.
And not a good omen for the week.

But if anyone has to pee on themselves or each other, I promise to post pictures when I get back.
Unless it's me. There will be no pictures of me in lycra with anything remotely related to urine.
Dignity, you know.

Like Pulling the Petals Off a Daisy...

I'll start writing again, I won't start writing again...
I'll start writing again, I won't start writing again...

Which might have actually worked fine if I ever had the ability to actually GROW something vaguely resembling a flower... Plants see me coming at the store and, if they could run, they'd totally be doing the same thing as dogs at the pound when the buyers from the animal-product-testing division of some large pharmaceutical complany who swears they NEVER test on animals comes through the cage rows. You know, shirking in fear at the back of the cage trying to look dead already.

Unfortunately for them, plants can't do that. So they end up at my house where they're lovingly cared for until I forget about them, which usually takes about two weeks, and then they're dead and shriveled in the front yard from a combination of no water and the dog mistaking them for a fire hydrant.

I really didn't mean for this to be a plant entry. Considering my usual ways with plants, however, this is about the grand sum total of all I could ever write about them.

So there you have it- my entire horticultural career in three paragraphs.

So what have I been doing that was SOOOOO important I forgot to post?

Nothing.
I just didn't feel like it. I needed a break, I think.
And now, FINALLY, it just seemed like a fun thing to do.

Now, for the catch-up...

Well...

Never mind. Nothing's going on. Seriously.
I have reverted to the most boring life imaginable. Taking the kid where she needs to go (which now includes physical therapy because of her mutant foot growth- did I mention she weighs 53 lbs. and wears a women's 5.5?), taking care of the innumerable animals that now call our house home, moving into my new office (where I decided NOTHING would be putty-colored and went through all the trouble of painting everything and have now realized that the printer is indeed putty-colored and would most likely not respond well to navy blue spray paint)... Yep. Blah, blah. blah.

I'm sure I'll think of something better tomorrow. I am rusty, after all.