Adios Punta Cana..

and..it's a wrap!  What a nice ending too..fine french cuisine in a restaurant decorated with eclectic clocks followed by this incredibly talented cast performing Broadway numbers as well as anyone I've ever seen on Broadway.  So before I get back to the reality of finding things buried under my back, (I miss Luke!) during my deepest sleep, and complaining about all the laundry and TV shows that have to be watched(I never DID catch up on so many after last fall's Mediterranean cruise) I just want to thank my wonderful travel agent for sending us to such an incredible place, and my Facebook friends who never tire of my insanity, and my husband, who made me laugh every day.  There wasn't a single moment of him being preoccupied with his phone, or me being  preoccupied with how mad I get at his pre-occupation. We shared food, gripes, laughs, and magical moments, like the one tonight as we tried to sing along to the ABBA numbers.  There's nothing like dodging waves with your better half without any electronics around to distract you, where conversations cover anything from "did I pay the electric bill?" or "I wonder which of our friends will be the first to develop Restless Leg Syndrome?"(I've given you the G-rated version of the actual question) Jim talked about his trip to Hawaii before we met, and how a person he encountered remarked that poi tastes so much like wallpaper paste.  He discussed the plot of "Passengers" which he watched on the airplane, and it didn't sound as bad as critics said it was. We talked about Luke and we reminisced about trips with Evan, and I complained that he makes too many pit stops and he complained that I was loudly snoring on a beach chair(!!!) but when married couples are in Full Vacation Mode, nothing is hurtful or insulting.  It's all about the laughter and the reconnect..and making more memories, even 'though five years from now we'll never remember if the pink flamingos were from the Dominican Republic or Jamaica, and then I'll remember, because I'm the one with the good memory, and I'll say "That was Punta Cana..remember we thought a flamingo snuck into the nightclub because someone's chair made a squeaky noise that sounded like a bird?" Or I'll say to him, "Is that the shirt that made you think you smelled like a horse?  Because it still kind of does" And we both realize we're not a perfect couple in real life--far from it--but wow, do we ever know how to not worry and be happy on vacation.  I'm thinking it's the desserts.  I'll end with a typical Karen anecdote:  Our server brought us a tray of delicious looking white balls that I thought was an exotic dessert, and I tried one, and I said "OMG Jim..this is a pure round-shaped cube of sugar...I can't believe I ate a coffee sweetener..!"  And then, when he wasn't paying attention, I ate another one ..on purpose.  Okay, that's a lie...I actually ate two of them. And I'm going to take it easy once I get back, although there's something ironic about a husband who smells like a horse and his wife who eats sugar cubes.  Next stop:  Woodloch!!

First world problems..

oh man, why did we choose to ignore the time share spiel?  Or not come here with a year's worth of singles for tipping?  Somebody is mad..so mad that I expect to find some broken toothpicks on the shower floor when I go in there without my glasses on.  You don't want to be around Jim before his coffee.  And YOU have a choice not to be--I didn't--for a whole forty minutes. Our breakfast tray was very late.  Unusually late.  And Jim, without his coffee, wasn't sure whether he should wait it out--or rush to the beach and reserve our chairs, with cheat stuff like nearly empty sun screen tubes.  I was wearing a sunburn friendly nightgown--which means I wasn't going to answer the door and let ANYONE in, even if sent proof under the door that he was Ethan Hawke. So an argument ensued and phone calls were made but still, no breakfast tray for us on  the balcony.  Jim leaves in a huff and returns in time for...still no tray. He needed coffee so desperately by this point that he decided to use the coffee  maker in the room..and proceeded to spill everything everywhere.  If you've seen him crabby without coffee, you should see him when the coffee is SPILLED!! Finally, there's a knock at the the door.  Jim is jonesing for fresh  hot coffee and his usual order--mueseli with raisins and granola. I want to see how they're going to outdo the iced coffee.  On day one, if was delivered in a parfait glass, covered tightly with a thin layer of cling wrap where one could see the dollop of whipped cream. The next day, there was a caramel drizzle and the day after, coffee chips and a dash of cinnamon. I anticipated a banana split in this parfait glass.  This is what we got: No hot coffee for Jim. No iced coffee for me. There was a carafe of something in between hot and cold, but it came without crunchy coffee sprinkles or a straw or anything to drink out of. Jim did not get mueseli but a distant cousin of it. No spoons for his cereal or my corn flakes, which I had to eat with a fork. The concierge is going to call any minute and ask how things were.  I'm going to say, in both English and Spanish, "oh..cut the crap..you know EXACTLY what went down here." Anyway, last night, we played our usual vacation game called "Highlights and Lowlights."  We usually wait for the last day, which is tomorrow, but we were at the buffet and bored even 'though Jim could finally  wear shorts. Without hesitation, he confesses his lowlight happened about eight minutes before I asked the question.  He told me he was scooping something up at the buffet with the only utensil they provide--a mini metal shovel with a slingshot in the back.  Only instead of grabbing a piece of sushi, this lethal utensil grabbed the fleshy part of the inside of his palm and pinched for like three agonizing minutes.  That was his lowlight.  Mine was the leg attack in the hot tub on day one.  My highlight was the beautiful water, and his would come an hour after the question was posed...It was the Rock Show that was waiting for us and it was spectacular.  The night life here is Vegas caliber.  I remember similar performances at the Iberostar in Jamaica, when contortionists could slip their entire bodies through hollowed out tennis rackets, while some of the elder guests watching them  had to pray they could remain standing once they got our of their chairs.  I can't tell you what dazzled most last night--the singing, the dancing..Jim said the guitar player and he posted a video to confirm. It was incredible and I'm sure I'll be saying something similar after tonight's show, Broadway, more my genre. This really is a great place.  Let me know if I'm complaining too much, would ya'?

Cigar bingo

I truly am having fun blogging on vacation, but I better exercise some caution before the blog becomes a b-l-a-g. I would have used B-R-O-G as the portmanteau of blogging and bragging, but I know a really nice fella with the surname and it would seem weird. But no matter what word, I should stop saying things like:  "I solved the bonus on "the Wheel" last night and it wasn't even in English!" or.."my brisket was so tender last week that the entire family asked for thirds" or "Evan is so elfin smart that he doesn't read my vacation journals!" Or how about: "Luke is so nefarious that when we took him to the beach, he dug holes in someone's brand new blanket and uncovered the remains of Osama Bin Laden?" Yep. no more bragging less I become not relatable, thus  not readable.  But I did keep the cowlick tame for almost an hour today--is that boastful? When we came across a language barrier in the French speaking  island of Guadeloupe for my 60th birthday, I relied a lot on miming, like pointing to a bread basket and then acting like I was buttering the back of my hand, even 'though the waitress brought over a small bottle of P-U-R-E-L-L. Today, a worker who spoke no English dropped off our breakfast tray and I asked him for more toilet paper.  He was so confused, poor thing, and kept repeating:  "Paper? Paper? Paper?" I thought maybe he somehow knew I was going insane because I haven't had a chance to solve a Star Ledger cryptogram in days, but I finally point to the bathroom and once again say "Paper?"  He still didn't understand and I wasn't going to try to act it out in a charade. The TP hadn't shown up by the time we left the room. I told Jim we should have forced ourselves to listen to the Time Share pitch. I'm so glad I bring a notebook to the beach everyday.  My memory is sharp, but not sharp enough to capture every nuance of the baby lamb chops, or that fact that a french Mom violated two  rules by bringing a drink in a glass to the pool area without her top on. Oh, and I told Jim he just had to try the gestapo soup.  That is not Auto Correct, that is just me forgetting the word gazpacho. I met a nice Mom in the ocean and the subject of Woodloch came up in five minutes--my doing.  She said she was avoiding the family friendly resort  next door because there were signs posted saying not to flush anything--including TP--into their commodes.  It must be both a sewage and a shortage issue, but maybe we ought to stay away for a day or two. Update:  There are people who share near death vacation experiences because they went hang gliding or jumped from a helicopter  or ordered seafood from a gas station food stop on a road trip. We just risked our lives on account of bingo. He recruited us and would not take no for an answer, dangling us with the promise of a great and mysterious prize, which turned out to be RUM that I would not have drank. So we show up for the 4:00 PM game at the swim up bar, and our stool choices were to be asphyxiated by a cigar or burned by the sun since we left our sunscreen on a chair. We chose sunburn, and then everyone was given out what was needed for Bingo, and believe me when I tell you we might as well have been handed Uzis and blind folds.  We were given flimpsy numbered sheets that went from one to 85 ((!!???)that were thinner than toilet paper. They'd shrivel up when wet, which is unavoidable when the only place to put them at a swim up bar is on a wet swim up bar. We were handed the sharpest toothpicks I have ever seen in my life and instructed to punch holes in the number once it was called.  My puncture holes turned into gashes and my card looked like it was hemorraging. The numbers were called loudly in Spanish and quietly in English and I so desperately wanted someone to win so I didn't have to breathe in that cigar smoke or set my shoulders on fire. They should rename this activity Torture Bingo, because we left the pool area, barefoot, of course, where we had to dodge a messy array of both whole and broken toothpicks..and drinking glasses..and drunks. At least we can say we tried an activity that didn't revolve around napping or eating. And then I hear this from a group of men playing pool vollyball once I got to the safety of my lounge chair.  I hear one of them say:  "This may be the marijuana talking, but I'm getting stirrings down south." And I wondered three things: 1) how'd he get by the TSA with weed? 2) What is it  about playing aquatic volleyball with guys  that prompted him to yell this out loud? 3) Was he positive those stirrings down south weren't caused by his wife who was careless with a tube of Ben Gay?

Everything you always wanted to know about sax..

I will not start tomorrow off with "I was too tired to blog last night" even 'though I am because I don't want to be boring and repititious.  "Chill Out" night was just that--sipping chilled strawberry daiquiris under the stars where the air was chilled but the people were not.  We had another gourmet dinner at the hibachi place, and trust me when I tell you this was not your Mama's Benihana.  We sat with husbands from Long Island--one looked so much like Mitch from "Modern Family" that we did a double take.  We didn't discuss daschunds: they discussed how divine Bette Midler was in "Hello Dolly!"  I guess I prefer a theater buff to a corn belt American, but I should keep an open mind. We saw these guys later at the show, which took place in front of the ship that has been converted into a bar.  The calypso version of Barry Manilow songs left one breathless, but I felt a little sad that our dinner companions and all the other same sex couples danced with sexy Dominican women.  Sure, it might have been by choice, but it's 2017, and these guys should have been comfortable enough dancing  with one another.  The Dominican beauties also danced with Jim a lot, because he is a gifted hoofer that deserves a partner who can keep up.  One was so tall and beautiful that there's no way I'll ever be convinced that one of her parents is not a giraffe. I've always had two left feet, and have always complained about how much they ache.  But dance we did to some Bee Gee classics and it was so nice that I won't even make a stupid forced reference to "La La Land"..we danced indeed under the "Moonlight" and it was sweet and it was chill. Our dinner companions told us not to miss the saxophone player  after the show and they were right.  Wow!!  It's like Kenny G and Lisa Simpson had an offspring with some Grover Washington Jr. blood in him.  His name is Elvis Sanchez and he is the most talented musician I've ever heard. I think I even saw the pink flamingos hoofing it up in the background. (And yes, "pink" is overkill--all flamingos are pink) Nights like "Chill Out" make staying at the Grand so worth it--it's nice to be an adult, at least at night. In the morning, I will be refreshed and coherent, and I will look forward to pretty pools and the sounds of screaming children as the buckets are dumped onto their happy little heads.  And I will get the succulent baby lamb chops again, and giggle as I think of my awesome friend Terri who read the entry today as "successful baby lamb chops", leading me to answer if they were that succesful, they would have made it to adulthood.

Close.. but no cigar..

You would think walking a few yards down to the other Iberostar, the family resort called Bavaro, would be a good idea but you'd be wrong.  Well, wrong and right. The pools there were infinitely nicer.  Aquamarine instead of cobalt blue, and there were no missing or dirty tiles.  Plus, the water was deep so I could do my treading exercising without triggering off intense agony.  (I didn't need a modifier there, all agony is intense) Sure, you had to put up with a kiddie water park, and the sound of bucket water crashing into screaming kids below it, but it was better than counting missing pool tiles in a pool that was shallow and small and not as pretty as it thinks it is.. Everything was just peachy until we encountered our first smokers.  You'd THINK we would have found that with the drunken, tattooed folks here at the adults only resort, but nope, the smoke was as annoying as the face of the walrus at the water park. (a pretend one for decoration) I am nothing if I'm not an exaggerater, so yeah, those were the ONLY smokers we dealt with all day.  Two of them and they were far away. I never said I was a good person. The ocean was calmer there too and we met a bunch of Bostonian hairdressers.  They didn't have Chicago accents!! They weren't from Chicago! The buffet lunch was accompanied by wonderful Dominican music, and it included stuff like succulent baby lamb chops and carrots, where the buffet at our part of the hotel offered stuff like mashed peas and Geritol. The guests were hopping and the staff was hopping because nobody was sitting there playing cards and praying nobody would steal their cane. We're entitled to go to the show at the family hotel tonight, but it's a magic show, and we've seen enough card tricks at this point in our lives that we can take educated guesses on how they're actually done. So we'll go to the show here, called the "Chill Party" and let's just hope it's not watching octogenarians crocheting stuff for their great grandchildren in the lobby. While Jim was getting details about the magic show we're not attending, he directed me to the bathroom(the situation was dire) only this bathroom had no toilets, just shower stalls.  By the time I ripped open the fourth of fifth curtain I was about to commit what I'm sure is a misdemeanor when I  thankfully hear Jim's voice from outside saying "the full bathrooms are in the next area!" Just in the nick of time.  So if you do come to the Iberostar in the DR, make sure your bladder isn't full and make sure you go to the family friendly resort for daytime adventures, and the adults only "Grand" for evening  pampering and time share pitches.  Try to come while the pink flamingos are still alive and kicking, 'though I'm not sure I've seen  one actually kick..We took a refreshing dip in our ocean when we hear a woman say"I thought I was standing on a large rock but I think it might have skin and it might have moved."  So we go over to them, and GUESS WHAT MIDWESTERN CITY they were from?? I stopped counting his tattoos by the eighth one and both managed to keep their beers dry.  Still, I was curious as to what the  one in the bikini(the wife) was standing on. They are here for ten days and he has no luggage.  He cannot go to any restaurant because all the airline didn't lose was the swim trunks he had on and the parka he bought from (spolier alert!)..Chicago.  So they've been eating at the buffet but they might have been too drunk to care. I ask the guy if the airline had reimbursed him for anything and he said if the luggage doesn't arrive today they will send him a check I think for one hundred dollars.  And he says, "I saw the prices for shirts in the boutique here and I'm not spending that kind of money, even if I can't eat in a gourmet specialty restaurant the whole time we're here." He adds: "do you know how many CIGARS I can buy with a hundred dollars?" and I answered that I did not, but I knew it was time for that conversation to end. Tonight we will have Japanese hibachi and I'm more positive than ever that the conversation is going to revolve around the end of the Cubs' losing streak.

The fourth flamingo..

I was way too tired to blog last night(and here I am, up at 7:00 so be prepared for the same opening tomorrow) The night started off weird.  Nights tend to do that when as you're leaving your room your husband says to you, "why does my shirt smell like a horse?" So even 'though you're jonesing for that Japanese hibachi dinner and fresh conversation with strangers(guaranteed to be from Chicago) you stop and sniff him and say"Well..definitely a petting zoo..not necessarily a horse" but still, there's a mystery that will remain unsolved. So Jim checks the voucher that the concierge Willy gave us on Day One and says, "nope..Surf and Turf tonight"..It was good we weren't sitting with strangers because one of them was bound to ask:  "does anyone else smell a horse in here or is it just me?" Oh..so Willy stops us en route and screams at me with delight, "oh..Miss Karen!  Miss Karen!" like this is 1960 and I'm hosting "Romper Room." Slick Willy, sweet as he is, made us stop and listen to his pitch and take some coupons and I think we accidentally signed up for a two hour time share presentation today.  It's not happening, of course.  I sacrificed the ocean yesterday because of the weather gods, I'm not repeating that today because Willy might save me twenty dollars if I book through him rather than the best travel agent in NJ, Christine Cherry Hommel. He looks at Jim with those charming little eyes of his and says, "a happy wife is a happy life, right?  I can get Karen thirty percent off on a beach bag" and we're both thinking that I need a new beach bag like I need more unwanted facial hair. I tend to bust chops a little when someone tries to talk time share. It's how I get my jollies.  Once, we had to go to one in Atlantic City because I won a raffle at a minor league baseball game and I knew I'd get a buffet dinner at a casino.  (Plus a free trip to a dumpy hotel in St. Pete's which wasn't exactly free)  The aggressive sales lady asked:  "wouldn't you just love to live in Atlantic City?" and I answer, "no..there's a reason I haven't been here in twenty years." Then she adds:  "Well, it's not just this time share.  How does strolling along a romantic beach with your husband in Italy sound?" and I reply: "it sounds like it'll trigger a sciatica attack."  She was not too pleased with me.  She finally shows me a picture of what an ordinary hotel room offers(bed, bureau, TV) in "Illustration A" and then what her condo would look like-bigger bed, full kitchen., flat screen TV in "Illustration B." She asks:  "Which one do you prefer?" and I answer: "Illustration A--I am a very simple gal" and then I blacked out, assuming she punched me, (But woke up in time for prime rib at the casino) Ironically, the time share she tried so desperately to sell was destroyed by Hurricane Sandy just a few weeks later, but WTF did we care--we got our potatoes au gratin.. Jim was very concerned after we left Willy's station and we only saw three pink flamingoes in the lagoon thing. (Damn you, auto correct!!) I WANT to say L-A-G-O-O-N-Y thing...why can't you indulge me just this once?  Jim was truly frightened that a flamingo had been eaten by the others. After the delicious dinner(where we were photo bombed by a waitress and the unflattering photo of me should have been titled "Surf, Turf, and Karen's Girth"(but I have no pride, which is obvious to anyone reading this) we sat on an abandoned ship with these Chicagoans, of course, who talked about everything from dachshunds to how good gas prices are in Illinois.  Jim listened attentively and for the first time in days I was wondering if I had caught that malaria  because I can't pay attention when conversations turn inane. Oh!  The show!!  Right!! (How in the world does ANYONE follow me??) Jim's eyes were transfixed on the stage, where the drummers were drumming and the pipers were piping, and the women wore colorful dresses and lots of fruit on their heads and would let out some primal screams along  with the singing and dancing.  I couldn't twirl the hem of my skirt like these women did, because I don't know where any of my skirts are.  But I misread Jim's face..he was exhausted too and ready to leave the show midway through..  All we missed were some high kicks and latin screams..maybe a patron or two who sat near us and said to their wife:  "There's a faint smell of horse in here." Willy is a great employee, as is everyone from the Iberostar.  A whole mess of them stood at the shoreline yesterday, rakes in hand in a very choreographed line as they loaded up a truck and the moved to Beverly..I mean..as they loaded up a truck and they removed seaweed.  (Sorry Ro) I need the ocean to be sparkling clean and seaweed free before I defile it with bodily fluids.  I will write later, when I'll hopefully have something to actually write about.  In case you're wondering, I too, am worried about that fourth flamingo.

What's Eating Karen Amster?

My husband, my hero..Saving Private Beach Chairs. I no sooner describe to you loyal readers the morbid details of "Celebrity Death Alert!" when we get to the beach and discover there has been one today. Jim warned me it would take a lot longer to guess than George Michael did on Christmas Day. With his amazing poker face, he says: "it's a name you definitely have heard of and she's known for a very specific movie--if you guess the movie, you'll guess the actress."  Oooh!!  Such fun!! So I ask all the great questions that a Master of 20 Questions would ask:  "did she play a criminal in this movie?  Was her love interest played by Ethan Hawke? Did her character die violently?" (Jim led me down the wrong path with that last answer, but I digress) I ask:  "We ruled out location, occupation, and favorite color, so is it important for me to guess an important physical characteristic of either the actress or the character?" He answers yes, and I don't know, I guess since the butler delivered that ice coffee with extra whipped cream a mere fifteen minutes before this conversation, I guess:  "Was there something about the character's weight that is significant?" He confirms and thank GOD nobody famous reads this blog, because you should of HEARD some of the fat actresses I was guessing.  He then gives me THIS hint: "there's something weight-related in the movie's title" and the first thing I say is, "Oh no.."My Big Fat Greek Wedding!"..Lainie Kazan died!!' So if you're reading this, Lainie, I apologize..you're not that fat but I'm still not sure if you're alive or not. Jim offers:  "I didn't say the word was "fat" per se" and I'm wracking my brains trying to think of a movie title that had the word "Obese" or "Zaftig" or "Pre-diabetic".  I guess:  "Does the title have the word "eat" in it?" and he smiles and I demand to know:  "Who the EFF was FAT in "Eat, Pray, Love"? and then I recalled reading that Julia Roberts gained seven pounds from all the consumed pasta in the scenes that took place in Italy, but if Julia had been the answer to "Celebrity Death Alert!" the whole resort would be abuzz. Jim is losing patience with me and hints that the word is only a FORM of the word "eat"so I guess "ate" and then "eaten" and I finally scream "EATING!!!" so loudly that nearby beachgoers probably thought the question was "What is Karen's favorite vacation activity?" In fact, Jim's earlier hint was that the activty was "something we had already done in the morning" but I couldn't think of a single movie title that even remotely mentioned "peeing in the ocean? "Also, this is a LIE because ONLY Jim ate breakfast on the balcony.  I drank coffee..that is NOT eating.  I have the same pet peeve with the ABC TV daytime exec who thought they were so clever and suggested"let's call our new show "The Chew" because it rhymes with "The View" and I'm thinking," I'm not watching the show on a day they make SMOOTHIES..gross! "Also, Jim had hinted that the character the actress played in the film didn't die violently, but they had to burn down Leonardo DiCaprio's HOUSE to retrieve his mother's corpse from a second floor bedroom!  RIP, Darlene Cates, but I asked Jim the same question I asked when we recently  played this and the answer was "Chuck Berry"..didn't that death happen a long time ago??  This beach is magnificent! Time to put down the snark pen and take another dip in the ocean.  (Euphemism for "I gotta pee") Late afternoon update: #Hashtag Sad! There was a cold rain most of the afternoon, but we just sat there like a couple of idiots, gazing at the turquoise water under the protection of a thatched umbrella, and yeah, describing a scene like that DOES give you the right to say STFU to me. I'm reading a great book inspired by "CastAway" and instead of wondering who the protagonost chooses, I can only wonder if there was a volleyball around. We came back from a very lukewarm(ooh..I miss my DOG!) hot tub when a guy who had been carrying a gun along the beach hours earlier approaches Jim with a bow and arrow and says: "I'm looking for Robin Hood." So he slung some arrows, quite poorly, and I blamed it on a delayed reaction from the Ben Gay in the air that caused his crotch to burn.  Because he's played archery before.My leg cramps are done.  One can't call them leg cramps,  They are more like violent attacks that last for eight to ten minutes, and you spend the whole time praying for a merciful death. So the cramps are gone, but then my hand started to weirdly lock up, like my pointer finger and thumb decided they wanted their independence from all other digits. Jim decides to be funny:  He says:  "doors. Vaults. Meryl Streep Oscar nominations.  Karen's extremities" and I say, "OK Dick Clark..things associated with the word "lock." You are usually a supportive husband but that was mean.  I hope the pink flamingos snub you tonight en route to our hibachi dinner and the Dominican show.

Come on baby.. light my fire..

do not..I repeat..do not..try to grab a bathroom product if you are semi blind and not wearing your your glasses.  I thought I was grabbing a spray on itch powder for my toes but wound up spraying Ben Gay.  Now, I WARNED Jim what I did and I just hear this after he got out of the shower:  "Did you spray Ben Gay in the bathroom?"  I yell up, "yes, you KNOW I did..I was complaining that I did that!" and he answers, "well,,,you left Ben Gay residue in the AIR and now my crotch is on fire!!"  He is so mad at me!  He had to take a second shower, so friends that are waiting for us for brunch and the show..we have a good excuse for being late

Saving Private Beach Chairs..

Jim just reserved beach chairs with stuff nobody will steal.  (And no, Luke is with the house sitter)He's bringing his Smart Phone today.  This should be fun if he checks his Newsfeed and we get to play "Celebrity Death Alert!"  I'm predicting Artie Lange, Paul Anka, or Heather Locklear because I really really loved that limo driver and his stories. I don't want them to die violently..Maybe have them succumb instantly after crashing into an airport limo. Or in Heather's case, from a bad batch of Evian

Ladies and gentlemen.. The Dominican Beatles.

There's nothing like a Beatles revue done by superior talent that makes you wanna say "screw the 4:00 AM pickup, I'm staying up." It's been a great night.  The portions at the Italian restaurant were so small that it seemed like a prank.  You know how tiny the diced carrots and potatoes are in a can of soup??  That's what you got.  Four bites of each, enough to fill a single teaspoon but I'll be damned if it wasn't delicious.  They WANT you to sample small portions here.  It's why they only give you a single roll of TP on arrival day, and a single pat of butter with the bread basket. Also, the scale said I weighed over 1000 pounds, so I'm assuming they used a different system of measurements here in the DR, or I'm way off about those portions. Oh, and like the Iberostar in Jamaica, this hotel too has fishbowl bathrooms.  But this time, everyone can see you doing your business if they walk by you in the garden.  This will take some getting used to.  So will the fact that I'm convinced that the only people who travel anywhere at all are Chicagoans.  Every single voice I heard sounded like John Candy or my brother in law.  That's not an insult, Bill..I like your voice, both  literally and figuratively. So the Beatles were awesome, even with their thick Spanish accents.  Jim insisted on filming some pink flamingos. I think I should play Edie the Egg Lady, right? Karen MUST sleep!

Pacino

And so it begins, a week of fun, sun, and "get that for me hon?" We have returned to the beautiful Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic, and I will try to decipher my notes taken on the plane as we await our room to be ready. We haven't been here since 2000, at the Club Med when Evan was just a wee one. Trip Advisor wasn't a thing then, so I'd peruse the Club Med message boards that teemed with paranoia. Apparently, three natives swam in a polluted swamp thousands of miles away from the resorts and caught malaria, and then all these "concerned" and "responsible" parents bragged about losing six thousand dollar deposits because it was better to be safe than sorry. Ugh..those pathetic fools and OF COURSE I spent the last twenty-two hours googling symptoms of malaria, because I'm still me, So no more crap that I usually include in my vacation journals. This trip is NOT financed by our basement meth lab business, because we don't have a basement. Truth be told, a recent spring cleaning of a utility shelf shows we DO have enough toxic stuff to keep a meth head happy for years..paints, glue, toxic sprays, a 60 pound sack of perennial flower food for roses we killed in 1996. We did, however, finance this particular adventure with (some!) of the following items: an 8 mm camera, dental floss, cinnamon sugar, our poodle Luke, our "As Seen on TV's Shark Tank!" Squatty Potty, and a small ballet group from just outside of Dayton Ohio. That's all you need to know and if you're reading this and already know the details, then thanks for your business, but don't you have better things to do at 2:00 AM? Also, Malaria sounds like Melania and they're both very scary. What am I looking forward to with this trip? Well, I want to meet my butler, and I hope he's as good as the one we had in the Iberostar in Jamaica, and by the week's end, I want to say "so were you the one who did it?" I want to take a romantic walk with Jim, who has finally forgiven me for burning his crotch yesterday by leaving Ben Gay residue in the air. (although he's since hidden everything but TP in that bathroom) When we're enjoying those evening strolls, I want to listen to the waves crashing gently at the shore, and I want to gaze up at the stars in the sky and see the La La Land reflected on the water's surface. (Sorry Ro, I promised no forced jokes but topical events Trump corn) Oh, speaking of stars, thank you Christine Cherry Hommel for arranging that wonderful limo, He was so worth getting up at 4:00 AM for, because today he picked up two zhlubs from NJ, but for most of his life he's been the personal driver for Al Pacino. Al Pacino actually bought him a car one Christmas, but he didn't need a car because as a limo driver, he has one, but Pacino gave him cash..Hoo-Ah!! Pacino wasn't his only celebrity client, but we're betting he's the only one who had no idea who Derek Jeter and Minka Kelly are. He told us about the wonderful celebs he schlepped around..Barbra and Liza and especially Tony Bennett were the best. Springsteen arranged for him to meet his favorite actor, Tom Hanks. Some acted like you'd predict they would..Charlie Sheen gets in the car and says, "dude, where can I do this stuff?" and the driver answers "in your hotel room!" He wants to write a book one day, but I'll give you a sneak preview here. Will he mention the god-awful ones?? He won't, but I will. He was too polite to curse, but we finished a lot of his sentences with "asshole" and "bitch." And I didn't have to use the "c" word because he never worked for Ann Coulter. David Cassidy was so bad that the driver almost dumped him on the side of the road. Artie Lange was the passenger from hell. Paul Anka made him drive through nine feet of snow only to tell concert goers to go swim in a malaria infested swamp. Sadly, he said Kathy Griffin was a bitch--at first I heard Kathie Lee Gifford, which would not be unexpected. Oh, and don't get me started on effin' Heather Locklear! She berated him with "do you think someone of my stature would drink Poland Springs water?" and then blew a gasket when he went into 7/11 to fetch her Evian, because he left this big star alone in a 7/11 parking lot where any deranged fan could have walked right by her. Ugh..my typing fingers ache..is this a symptom of malaria? OK, I'll try to avoid my usual vacation journaling stuff..too much blogging becomes blAgging, my portmanteau of blogging and bragging. You already know I like to discuss my clever kid and my ability to solve "Wheel" puzzles, ("Quick Fixes" with JUST the e and s!) so I'll avoid cliches and lazy writing to hold your interest. The exception of course, is Ethan Hawke, because I have to mention him in every blog because of the lust for the witty intellect he played in the "Before" trilogy..otherwise he's kinda goofy. So I'll limit my lust and my hypochondria, at least until the room's ready or the malaria sets in. Sneaking Ethan's name into every blog reminds me of what happened in HS when I was all consumed with Dick C-a-v-e-t-t-. (Damn spell check! not caveat) I was obsessed and snuck his name or his reference into every thing I submitted, even an essay on "Native Son" because I'm sure the talk show host must have read it. Sara Joffe, my very proper English teacher gave me a poor grade once because of my obsession. She actually said, "Karen, you're getting a c-minus. I'm sick and tired of all the Dick you try to sneak into everything you do"