Reality bites

when they make a Bravo show about me it'll be called "Reality Bites"..actually a name of an Ethan Hawke movie, whom I didn't obsess once about him in the travel journal.  (Besides, it's all about  Jimmy KImmel now) But it does bite, like a shark or a Trump supporter.

  I did not wake up today to the calming sound of surf and the smell of the sea.  I woke up to the sight of  Luke's new  hole in the newish bedspread, and the smell of his  peculiar streak across the newish carpet. I came home to newspapers I probably won't and( should not!!) read,  but I need those cryptograms for my mental health, so except some bad punctuation, incorrect use of the caps bar, and wrong words. Puzzles and cryptograms keep me in shape, so maybe I'll toss the news and just concentrate on them. Mail has been sorted, "This is Us" has been watched and loved, but bills have to be paid and the rest of  DVR is going to collapse from its heft.  (Who tells me to tape the News at Noon every day?) First world problems again...when will I stop? I face the reality of peeling skin and a swollen lip, three pounds up(I anticipated 30) and hair that could scour a pan that someone just fried bacon in, plus  a nor easter in the forecast.

Reality bites, but  recreation/relaxion is it's kissin' cousin.

DO go to Turks and Caicos if you love this look I described earlier..a swath of ivory, topped with turquoise. then white, then sky blue. DO go if you love the idea that smokers on the beach will get fined.  (Although I find that difficult to enforce , since nobody carrries ID onto the beach while staying at a resort.) DO go if you like to tour upscale towns and if you're lucky enough to have the wind blowin' the right way, awesome water activities and snokeling that will make you feel like you've been submerged in your dentist's waiting room aquarium..

DO NOT go if it means your return trip will be on a Saturday during spring break on a holiday. We stood in line for two hours(I hate to complain about petty crap like this--what are YOU supposed to do about it?) and this time, Jim was the one randomly searched.

 We were whisked off to an isolated room where his luggage was picked over, piece by piece. (You've already seen all the stuff he's had in there via photos--it could have been worse.  Could have been MY wardrobe that was mauled)

 After countless lines and putting bare feet into god knows what, , we were finally ready to board..the last two on, when Jim gets stopped again for another search.  Don't suggest he shave his beard  to look less menacing: .His chin is as weak as my willpower.  So I was annoyed, saying"OK, I'll just wait here" and the TSA bitch says"no, your plane is right here."  So I say: "I'll wait outside then" and she practically lunged at me, saying "that is illegal..get on that aircraft this once!!" So I climb that staircase, schlepping the stuff Jim usually schleps, and I am really upset. I find my seat without him, I sit down without him, I buckle my seat belt without him.  I hear:  "Flight attendants, we are about to close the cabin doors..prepare for takeoff"..WITHOUT HIM!!  My smart inner self told me dumb inner self not to scream or panic..that would make me look like a crazy woman who needed to be ejected.  An attendant read my face and smirked "not to worry". 

 I stow my carry on  and  put my passport--the one Jim usually holds onto for fear of me losing it-- in Jim's empty seat, where it disappears within a minute.  NOW I'm panicking.  The guy in Seat C looks nothing like me.  He has unruly brown hair and goofy glasses and a beer gut and..oh shit!!  He could be my freakin' twin!

 I say, politely, "sir..my passport was RIGHT HERE (pointing to Jim's empty seat) and my husband is right there!"(pointing the the terminal)  He holds it and  says to me, "this is MY passport" and apologizes immediately.."Oh wait..it IS yours"..The pages flipped open and he looked like he was going to quiz me about Barcelona, but I hear the pilot threatening to close the cabin doors one more time, and I am started to freak.  I gaze out the window and see that tuft of grey ascending the steps..Jim is boarding!  He contorts himself to wedge into Seat B, the dreaded middle, and tells me we're never going to be the last to board again.  I wasn't even thinking about what life would be without him..I was thinking about who was going to deal with the luggage and the limo once we landed in Newark..

Still think I'm entertaining?