The day of the iguana

Why is this day different from all other days?

On all other days, I might scream out to Jim, "I'm gonna lose brain cells without my cryptogram..did we get The Star Ledger?" or "Make sure you left me plenty of hot water!"

On this day, I started my conversation with:  "There's an iguana in front of our patio!" but of course I say it so loudly that the iguana runs for its life before Jim could grab his phone.

And if you don't believe there was an iguana on my lawn the way you didn't believe I swam with a duck, then go to another blog.

I mean it.

On all other days, I have to make decisions.  Who shall I punish first?  Luke, for making holes in the comforter he's humping, or the telemarketer who wants to sell me a  cemetary plot?

On this day, I have to decide if we should stay at the private pool and have a BBQ lunch while overlooking the ocean, or shall we schlep to the main pool, where the action is and where the food options will be more plentiful?

I'm aware of  how this reads. 

 But some of you knew me before I started blogging, and some of you like me...you really really LIKE me..and you'd actually say things like "may all your dreams come true."

(Although you wouldn't have wished last night's to happen.  Last night, I dreamt we came home to find a massive cooking pot on our stove, light blue on the bottom, cornflower on top.  Someone stuck an empty three quart container of vanilla frosting onto the faucet in the  kitchen sink, letting water slowly trickle back into the can.)

And neither of us could remember the numbers on how to dial 9-1-1. We thought that's what we needed to do.  We were afraid to see what was in the big blue pot.

So yes, nobody wants ALL my dreams to come true, but for those of you who are happy that we take these spring getaways, I thank you for your friendship and sincerity.

We had a really nice time last night--it felt great to actually be served and not have to worry about getting a little girl's long hair into the creamed spinach. 

(The creamed spinach, FYI..was delish..as was the corn chowder in a bread bowl, the potatoes au gratin, and a pretty decent steak. Jim thought his lamb was a little "lamb-y".)

(I wish his name was Mary, because it would make sense for "Mary" to have a little lamb-y)

And OMG..I'm making a dumb forced joke!

And OMG..I'm talking about what we ate!! 

 Next thing you know we'll be photographing it! 

Sure, there's no camera proof for an iguana on our patio or a duck in  the  gulf  of Mexico in my direct  vision but who can make it through another blog without seeing our bread basket?

It was nice to be pampered..It's nice that they anticipate every nerd.  You know that was supposed to read "need" but it works either way when Jim and I are the ones we're talking about.

 Thus  this typo remains here forever. Unlike some of you

We sat poolside for a magnificent synchronized swim show, and no offense to my dear friends, this was not your Summer Camp's water show.

First of all, it was only seventy degrees and really breezy, and the people didn't even flinch when their toned bodies hit the water..even when they were carrying lit up torches and making them do fire dances, they were professionals. 

We saw underwater and above-water ballet and heard great music and I have tremendous respect for choreographers who know their craft.  It was stunning and spectacular.

Jim misread tonight's theme show as a "Cabernet" of talent instead of "Cabaret."

Again..this is why I prefer Family Resorts.  I will see wonderful singers and dancers and acrobats tonight.

The "Cabernet" show at an Adults Only resort might have me witnessing the crazier drunk who challenges the less crazy one to jump from a four story balcony into the pool below..all in the name of Cabernet.

My hypochondria will be the death of me!

From sunburn to stomach spasms, cramps to charley horses, from scratchy throats to itchy places other than throats..I am a litany of complaints.

But grateful..grateful that despite all my kvetching, I AM still healthy enough to do all the things I'm doing.

And anyway, my undoing won't be from any of the above.

My undoing will be when I'm institutionalized after shooting my own hair..the arrogance on that bitch!

If she had only been a little more cooperative, the Hedda Hair of mine.

We'd both be happy campers.