Lather.. Rinse.. Repeat..

Lather.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Which I did, with sunscreen, sea, and serenity.

How does anyone decide it is OK to let me out of my cage?

The day started off like it always does, with Jim in the gym and me in the last minutes of slumber, and then off to our pool chairs, which Jim reserved hours before, for our last full day in the beautiful island of Antigua.

We met up with our literal neighbors again, the ones who have a son who is good friends with Connor Clifton of the Boston Bruins, the very same NHLer who went to elementary school and played soccer with Evan.

We signed up for  another Aqua-Gym class, which is actually fun, even 'though I always cheat just enough so nobody notices. I can fake a wave like nobody's business.

This was followed by a round of "Jeopardy!" in the pool. near the swim-up bar,  but it was  just a handful of trivia questions about Sandals resorts and things that nobody would know anything about.

Some questions were easy.  ("What state is nicknamed the "Volunteer" State?")

Some..more difficult, like "who invented the bikini?" and "how many bones are there in the human body?"

And then came the really difficult ones, which I thought I heard but probably not outside of my own head.

Like:

"Will Karen  ever retrieve her favorite tube of lipstick that fell under the enclosed vanity sink?" or..did the presence of these adorable kittens actually turn her from a feline foe to a feline fan who finds sharing space with them to be kind of..CAThartic?"

Lunch was Asian-fusion: the  view took my breath away.

We leave the restaurant and find two beach lounges..very covered real estate. 

Jim volunteered to take the twenty-minute round trip back to the pool to fetch our belongings, and Karenoia decided to attack me with a vengeance.

I'm alone, and the roped in area in my view is deserted, when I suddenly see a brown, flat, oblong bobbing and weaving in the surf.

There were no visible fins, so I knew it wasn't likely to be a shark, but I was convinced that it was a creature of the stingray family--the deadly kind.

I am hot and desperate for a dip, but I was also "hearing" my eulogy, and "hearing" whoever was giving it trying to be delicate and skirting the issue of a sea creature  fatality.

A woman walks by with a tray of drinks, and tells me I'd have to walk to the opposite end of the resort and find a staff member of the water sports' team if I was concerned.

A peddler who knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with me and a silver bracelet  display was almost harsh, calling the bobbing blob "seaweed..what else could it possibly be?"

A Sandals photographer finally sees my desperation, wades out in his dry shorts and dry camera, and comes back to my chair and says:

"It's the anchor for the boat.  Don't you see it passing by?"

Of course I see it.

I just didn't  think about the fact that boats have anchors.

Which is why I need  to be crated or caged.

Jim comes back with 100 pounds of our gear and we meet a Newfoundlander who took four days to get here. so..don't let me complain about the direct route from Newark airport, that got us here just after lunchtime on the morning we left.

The guy sounded Scottish, and had the ruddy complexion and rough hands of someone who works in the oil industry., which he does.

He pronounced "kelp" as "kal-lop" and I could only hope the man will never have to call for "help" one day.

I felt sorry for him, wondering how lonely his life must be on an oil rig, when he's joined by a dozen Canucks, all with bottles of amber liquid in their hands.  They were singing, the were circling, they were frolicking like a bunch of octogenarians.  They swigged their beers in unison and I said to Jim, because I'm such a nerd, "we must be at a sand bar."

I went back to my ideal parking spot for a well deserved nap. my Kindle(the enjoyable "Summer of 1969") and some conversation with my better half while sipping a cold lemonade that tasted extra good.

It was then one last carefree romp in the sea, where the buoys are.

I have just a touch of the end-of-vacation blues, but they'll go away once I'm enjoying my Surf n Turf candle lit dinner..and a chocolate  and martini farewell party after.

There will be an award presented to the best dressed couple in white, but in order to enter, I'd have to show up in just a bra...the only white apparel I packed.

See you in New Jersey!