Greetings from Avalon

I so desperately needed a getaway after being confined for nearly six months in our  house by the Jersey Shore with my Internet-obsessed husband.

I am now in a  hotel room by the Jersey Shore with my Internet-obsessed husband.

We are in Avalon, in a very white room with a view of parked cars(not all white) and Avalon makes me think of King Arthur, which makes me think of my "Camelot" parody that I wrote when Kamala was nominated, which makes me think of politics, which I will not be doing, because Jim has been thinking about politics enough  for both of us.

If I didn't book a getaway that wasn't a dental appointment or a trip to a local eatery with a dripping awning, I was going to lose what's left of my mind. My lungs are most likely  already shot from growing up with second hand smoke, but I still had to decide:  chance further damage to the lungs via Covid exposure?  Or save my brain and give it a chance to take in a balcony view of parked cars?

I chose the latter, and so far, so good.

Good, not great.

It's New Jersey, which means it's not Hawaii or Woodloch, two places I'd rather be.

It is overcast, but I am grateful that we remembered to pack sunscreen.

And the portable bidet we were supposed to break in last March.

Because without that bidet, we'd be in trouble--we'd be inconvenienced--we'd be..oh screw it, we'd be up Schitt's Creek without a paddle and yes, I'm going to still talk about the only bright light of 2020, that amazing show!

Because this time my thoughts go in the travel journal, the gateway to the permanent blog.  I need to archive these thoughts while I'm still on that "Schitt's Creek" high, which I imagine I'm going to be on for another seventy years or so.

It is so..so..so "Gilmoreesque" with its rapid fire dialogue and pop culture references and quirky townspeople in a town that's a character itself.  And all that lovability..it's so damn lovable!

I used to think my poodle is lovable, but he is not.  He is a pervert and I am glad to be away from him for four nights.  I am tired of the growling and the obsessive licking.  Obsessive, aggressive, demanding licking of any exposed body part, like a knee or elbow.  He licks and licks and licks until he's ready to hump the comforter, and it's as gross as it sounds.

If I wanted to be licked aggressively, I'd wake up Jim at 4:00 AM and say, "um..honey..I think it's my birthday?"

I know I have to get used to masks, but I sure wish it was a mud mask and I was at a spa.  (Not that I've ever done that)

Jim could not hear the woman behind the check in counter and she could not hear him.

I think it's best that I do NOT tell anyone my name this summer or during this getaway.  If "Mrs. Amster" isn't good enough, I'll say my name is Moira or Alexis.

We were given beach tags at reception and told there'd be a hefty fine to pay if we lost them. There is no danger of that because it takes a friggin' crowbar to unsnap the thing.  I have never seen anything like this.  I spent a good chunk of pool time trying to figure out the kid-proof latch on the tag.

Speaking of chunks, the flies sampled lots from my legs at lunch.  They were relentless, and I hope they choke on all that hair I've neglected to shave.

This place is more luxurious than say..THE ROSEBUD MOTEL(okay, enough with the "Schitt's Creek"--"oy with the poodles already!") but there could be a few improvements with amenities.

Would it kill them to provide q-tips?  Body lotion? A built in bidet?

I asked the waitress for iced tea at lunch, and she asked me if unsweetened was OK.  I answered like you'd suspect a Karen like me to answer, and I said "it's OK..just bring me whatever kind of sweetener you have" and she answered, "we're weird that way.  We have no sweetener."

(I bet it's 'cause it attracts friggin' FLIES!!)

Gonna go shave and mourn the end of "Schitt's Creek"

More later..