Ain't No Sprang

We seem to have gone straight from Winter to Summer. It's hot man!- though we are having some torrential Spring-like rain today. Since returning home I have been mildly productive. That's big for me. I'm contemplating life. Careers. Afternoon snacks. I've also been all alone as my folks are in San Francisco for some Dad meetings. They'll be home this evening and I couldn't be more pleased to pass off Baxter. Don't get me wrong, Buddy has been an attention-needing nuisance all week but Baxter had me contemplating running an ad in the paper. He whines ALL DAY. Mom is so good with him. I'd never noticed before. He wants meat. Not cat food. Meat. He wants the chicken you're eating. He knows there's ham in the fridge. He remembers the smoked salmon I had for lunch. He attacks me while I eat. Meanwhile Buddy stares, smiling at me from a polite distance, hoping his good behavior will result in his own meaty reward.

While I spend lots of time talking to Buddy during the day and we walk around the block at night, perhaps it's the warm weather but Buddy seems to be needing more lately. He has escaped all but one night of my Pet Patrol and barked so loudly from the Yacht Club that I had to drive over there at 2:00 am to shut him up. The clever dickens went silent the moment he heard me shouting. I couldn't find him. He hunkered down until I sped off into the night and then apparently decided to race me home. There he was, at the end of the dock when I got back. Covered in mud from head to tail.

We finally got some dock time and found that it's really taken a beating this Winter. I see a Daddy/Daughter project in my future.
How much have you missed this view?

Heading Home

...I woke up 18 hours later.

Hot and confused, I cracked an eye open to find Ellen staring at me with a dopey grin. Who knew something so small could knock someone out for so long. It led me to a long think about life and roofies.

Our last day at sea was a groggy one for me and I mostly remained in bed until dinner time. I did emerge from the covers in the late afternoon to pack my things and wash the warm Caribbean salt from my hair. I could feel an occasional lurch from the ship as we crashed over the few remaining swells on the way back to Ft. Lauderdale. It was in the tiny shower stall that I was almost hurled from behind the curtain into the bathroom door and no doubt then spilling out into the stateroom, sudsy from head to toe. I caught myself on a handrail, chuckled quietly, and then repositioned myself underneath the water. While I'd been bathing here all week, it was just then that I noticed how close my head was to the ceiling, just 6 inches or so, and it occurred to me that no male member of the Honbarrier family could stand up in this shower.
"Where do the behmeoth men bathe?" I wondered aloud, rinsing soap from my ears.
"What?" Ellen shouted from her bed, no doubt her eyes fixed on the T.V.
"I said, 'Where would the Honbarriers bathe?" and Ellen ignored this question.

There were a few occasions that day when my drowsiness overpowered my brain and I would mumble in German or ask for help internally, with no noise actually coming out. I remember saying "Morgan" to Ellen several times when I was trying to ask for water.
I was operating on the intellect level of a toddler and Ellen handled me accordingly.
"I have spoons." I told her once as I was packing.

As for those other gals, well I just don't know. They brought me a late lunch and I felt much better after I ate. We sat out on the balcony for a while and decided to forgo dinner in favor of one last bowl of gelato. Ellen scampered off to the room after our ice cream date and we didn't see much of her again. They did all reluctantly sit for pictures for a moment and Ellen gave my lens nothing but sass.

We took our final roam around the boat before bed and watched a show about all the different dances of each country. I found it difficult to not hop up and shimmy with the salsa dancers and Mom got such dance fever that she partook in a class that taught her to "Wobble." 

We hopped off the boat bright and early the next morning, missing the crowds and getting our own personal shuttle back to the car. Mom drove us out of the congested, 9 o'clock traffic and made good time driving all the way up Florida's coast. Ellen drove for approximately 15 minutes of the 10 hour drive before we booed her out from behind the wheel and into the back seat. Giggly and delirious, I drove just the final two hours, insisting it was my part of the highway as it was my old SCAD route. We showed up in Charleston around dinner time and dumped Carolyn out in her driveway. 

Good ole Pops had dinner ready for us when we got home. We told him just a few stories before Ellen left and Mom and I went up to bed.

Cozumel

Cozumel is sensationally colorful. And hot. And full of beaming Mexicans. I was instantly teleported back to my farm days and began smiling and waving at all of the shop keepers and waiters before realizing that they don't know me. Just hearing their voices made me picture Gilberto, flying down those dirt roads and tossing me a Gatorade. I just love Mexicans.

It sure was toasty here and the heat slowed everyone down. We lazily made our way ashore after breakfast and found that again the port was dressed up just for the tourists. There were tours available if you wanted to go deeper onto the island or to go see the Aztec ruins. While gawking at ruins of the Aztec variety is in fact on my Bucket List, we did neither of these things and instead walked around for about a half hour before climbing back aboard. We didn't need any of the available trinkets though I found myself truly considering a bag full of Mexican paraphernalia that was being pushed on me by a tall, skinny guy named Jorge.
"Oh lovely lady look! I have bag with everyting you need!" and he pulled out a straw hat, shot glasses, a blanket...all sorts of goodies. "You just tell them, me Jorge, help you." he said, pressing his fingers into his chest when he said his name. I loved Jorge but I talked myself out of buying his goodie bag. All the smiley Mexicans had goods for sale and I found myself entranced by the bright colors and geometric patterns covering everything you could possibly buy. I'm sure the whole island isn't set up like this little market but it sure was a charming place.

I'm a bit disappointed to inform you that I did in fact feel woozy here BUT it's better! Not so fainty and instead just weak and puke-ish. Isn't that exciting! I'm getting' better!! 

Mom also declared a state of lightheadedness thus we filed back to our rooms fairly quickly.

Not that it matters, but I got my story-telling out of order. I forgot to mention The Ultimate Deck Party that took place up around the pool on the second night or so. There was a great band from St. Lucia playing everyone's favorite dance hits and there were a few unlucky staff members who were forced to dance awkwardly by themselves until people got the nerve to join in. We stood above the pool deck party, looking down our noses at the mobs of dancing people and folks enjoying their night. It was most amusing and after sometime Mom could hold back no longer and broke into an Electric Slide all by herself, surrounded by other bashful party onlookers. We saw Peter here who had a bizarre dance move that consisted of standing on one leg and shaking the other one side to side with a pointed toe. Go ahead try it... pretty silly right? We were all in stitches and even noticed the people next to us were filming him on their phone.

We also found Boozin' Susan amid the crowd, who came floating is as if dancing alone in a victorian ballroom. She could hardly keep her balance and backed into the edge of the pool, teetering backwards, and being saved just in time by concerned onlookers. There was a collective gasp and "Oh Nooo!!" from everyone who could see her from their perches. She was polity escorted away from the pool and out of the party.

Some rough waters greeted us as we pulled out of Cozumel and the lot of us, minus Carolyn who had been taking Bonine everyday, began to feel a little seasick. We attended one more line dancing class, just for laughs, and then headed to bed. Worried I would get too seasick for my own good, I bought a box of "Bonine: Non-drowsey" and took just one tiny little pill before bed...

Grand Cayman

If you ask me, this is the stage in the game where Ellen became somewhat disagreeable. Mom will tell you she held up well, only retreating into her room for lounging purposes on the last day or two. I will tell you that she ditched me in Grand Cayman, forcing me to spend my afternoon trinket shopping in a bathing suit. I'm still mad about it.

By now we had a routine for breakfast which consisted of fruit, yogurt, and various proteins that we scarfed down at a crowded buffet Carolyn dubbed "The Trough." While Mom and Gigs chose to wander through town all day, Ellen and I decided we wanted to go to the beach. Dip our toes in the cool Caribbean Sea. We donned our bikinis and filled our bags with towels, sunblock, and beach gear.

Once on dry land Ellen grabbed my arm and pulled me over to what looked like a South American chicken caravan, full of people and wooden crates. "We can take this to the beach." she told me nonchalantly. "It's only $4!"
This suits me just fine but I foolishly asked her if I could look around town for 20 minutes just to take some pictures. I saw a storm brewing in her impatient mind but she agreed and we crossed the street with Mom and Carolyn, headed for a tacky looking outlet mall. In under two minutes, the Ellen Storm broke loose and she ran across the street, hopped onto the chicken bus, and sped out of town. And there I stood in my bathing suit, a heavy bag stuffed for the beach, watching her ride away.

In case you're wondering, I never once got to touch the crystal blue water or lounge in the sun at all. I spent this day wandering in and out of the same tourist stores we have here in Charleston and not one of them had a bench for uninterested shoppers. Junk store masters, Mom and Gigs ambled their way down the beachfront strip of shops. Because I was ditched by a heartless and impatient sister, I never got to wander out of town to take pictures but you can see here how the island has the port strategically set up just for tourists. I will say that it's a cheerfully colored place with lots of yellow buildings, flowers, and smily locals.

Sometime around 3 the gals decided they had seen enough and we headed back to the ship. It was very warm this day and I was very pleased to not feel particularly fainty. This trip was my first venture into hot weather in some time and I'll admit, I was really nervous. I didn't want to miss out on any fun but I also didn't want the locals to see me as another white tourist that fainted from the heat. How embarrassing. 

"I'm from a hot place too!" I would have claimed, receiving only eye-rolls from some of the most heat tolerant humans in the world.

It was on our way back to the boat that the sky started to cloud over and the sun retreated. "Looks like a storm's coming." Mom said, though I'd decided it was just Ellen making her way back to the port. 

Ellen did come back aboard just a few minutes behind us with sand in her toes and sun-kissed cheeks. Big jerk.

We all took afternoon naps while it rained outside and thus began our pattern of sleeping between meals. All we did was eat and sleep. We waited for our next meal by napping. Occasionally, we would gather on our balcony, making jokes and small talk while we anxiously awaited that night's menu. 

We headed back to Crooners after dinner, the lounge where Nemo worked and he belted out his hello's as we settled into our chairs. "You came back!" he exclaimed. "Elizabeth, you look beautiful tonight." he said with his Serbian accent. Carolyn gave him a sassy smile. 

"I'm on to you." she said and he grinned like a guilty toddler.

We stayed up late, laughing and eating gelato. While we searched out our frozen treats Ellen gave the options. "We could go up to Scoops for ice cream or we could have gelato. Carolyn responded with what became the most highly repeated phrase for the whole trip. Two words that would only make you laugh by hearing them come out of little Carolyn's bright red lips. With a slight british accent, she shouted, " Screeeeeewww Scoops!" and with us simpletons in stitches, we headed downstairs for gelato.

Car Rides and Sea Days

Our trek to Ft. Lauderdale began later in the day then we expected. Ellen and Carolyn both had to work until noon while Mom frantically packed her things and I laid in bed watching news reel bloopers. We set out on the highway around 2, all itching with the pre-trip giggles. Carolyn entertained us with a movie she and Georgia created staring Keanu Reeves as a Native American named Chicken Foot. His baby son's name is Chicken Nugget. We drove down to Melborn that day and while I slept off and on, Ellen spent the whole 6 hour drive upset about work things. She texted and called back and worried about AC units and monthly checks and gosh it was annoying. "Turn your phone off!" we all shouted to her while she descended further and further into a dark, festering frenzy.

That night as we layed in bed, Carolyn kept us awake talking about her life as Mrs. Marky Mark. I was immensely tickled by Carolyn's pillow talk and was told that I was still laughing out loud in my sleep. The next morning we ate a quick breakfast and packed our things.  Ellen accidentally hit Carolyn in the back with a "run by fruiting" that was meant for me. On the road in no time, we made it to the port, climbed aboard the Ruby Princess and thus our fun began.

Ellen, a big talker afraid of overpriced fruity beverages, decided to smuggle a bottle of rum onto the ship. She had two medium sized plastic bags, each half filled with clear, cherry flavored rum. As we pulled in to the parking lot she slung one at me. "Here Laura, strap this around your waist while you go through security" she said and tossed me a roll of duck tape.
"No way!" I shouted.
"You wanna pay nine bucks for a drink?" she asked.
"I don't want a drink!" I retorted, somewhat panicked.
And so one bag was left in the car. The other was quickly shoved down the front of Ellen's tight black jeans, limiting her mobility and plastering that devious grin on her face for the reminder of the afternoon. She indeed made it through the security check with no trouble, though I was not quick to help her when she dropped her passport on the ground. I enjoyed watching her crouch like a pregnant woman, pawing around, and teetering on her way back up. To top off the scheme, rather than going to her room to unload her plunder, the crew corralled us all into a fancy dining room for lunch. We plopped down into our plush chairs, draped cloth napkins across our laps, and sipped citrus water from wine glasses. Ellen, still grinning, though with more concern, leaned way back in her chair. The hot plastic stuck to her stomach and sloshed with every movement. She sat like a nine year old in a church pew; a diagonal line touching only the edge of the cushion and the top of the backrest. I found this all sensationally entertaining and was very disappointed when Ellen finally reached into her pants and somehow shuffled the whole ordeal into her purse. What makes this better though is that Ellen never once made a drink with her rum. Didn't even open the bag.

We pulled out of Ft. Lauderdale a little before dinnertime and spent the time before take-off rolling around in our staterooms. Ellen and I were somehow upgraded to a room with a spacious balcony and it is here that we spent most of our downtime, sunbathing and taking pictures of each other. Ellen was occasionally difficult to corral as she throughly enjoyed watching movies and reading about each day's events. Here I have Ellen in two of her most natural positions.

This first official day was an entire day at sea. The waters were smooth and the sun was hot so us gals headed to the pool deck to get some color. It was here that we observed our fellow passengers and Mom noticed that one of the male pool attendants was definitely not wearing any underwear.

We lazed around this first day and all donned our party dresses for dinner that evening. Carolyn wore a dress she referred to as her "sausage casing" and Mom lived on the edge with a "short" hemline. I foolishly chose to use the brisk wind as a hair-dryer and spent the remainder of the evening ripping out clumps of tangled hair. 

That night we met Nemo, a 23 year old Serbian cocktail server who really took a liking to Carolyn. She told him her name was Elizabeth and he made tip-wanting eyes at her all night. He also danced for us while singing and pouring drinks. We noticed he did this exact act at any table involving two or more middle-aged women. And yet... you couldn't help but tip the guy.

As a last stop before bed we attended a line-dancing class. Purely to observe of course. This is where we encountered most of the ship's major characters and Ellen became genuinely angered by Mom and Carolyn's hysterical laughter. There was one man we named Peter, for he looked like one of Jesus's disciples. He had a penchant for 70's tunes and could be found dancing anywhere there was music. We noticed a grandma who didn't miss a beat and one young woman who just couldn't. No matter how hard she tried.
Best of all was a middle aged, skinny, hippie woman who we only ever saw roaming the ship drunk and alone. We named her Boozin' Susan after one of my Surf Bar acquaintances (she gave herself that nickname) and Boozin' would dance and stagger but was off in her own world, never following the steps and often floating out to a distant corner before reappearing in twirls. Mom and Gigs had tears in their eyes and Ellen stormed off to bed, afraid of being caught with two whimpering women and a frizzy-haired, grinning misfit.

Aunt Giggles

Before I enchant you with tales of the tropical south, lets talk a little about Aunt Carolyn.
Or 'Giggles' as she's known.

A children's counselor by day, Carolyn spends most of her mental energy devising exhausting plot lines for unwritten cinematic masterpieces or inventing products like "Vomitrol" a foldable, rubber vomit blob you strategically place to keep others from sitting near you. While children wallow and wail, she contemplates a post-work jaunt through       Stein Mart or stopping in for an Oreo McFlurry.

A natural born comedienne, Carolyn holds back sass, jabs, and hearty guffaws in her flawless attempt at maintaining an appearance that is professionally compassionate. Should the school board catch wind of her inner dialogue while helping teenage girls work in groups, she would surely be sacked. Alas, day after day she manages to help kids while creating slapstick gold. An afternoon of Carolyn's storytelling leaves you breathless with burning sides and tears in your eyes. The voices. The expressions. She really should have her own show.

Barely reaching a hulking 5ft tall, lil' Giggles appears to be a put-together, well-mannered lady but in reality, this quick witted little troublemaker is taking in her surroundings with a sharp eye for oddities and sideways glances. Finding humor in the mundane is her specialty.  Her ability to predict human behavior has us itching with anticipation to see what happens next. 

It's her bubbly but dry, and somehow outraged personality that keeps us snickering when it is most inappropriate. 

Away We Go

Us gals are off for a mini-vacation. It's Carolyn's Spring Break so Ellen, Mom, and I are joining her on a quick little Caribbean cruise. It's a tough life. We're leaving Friday afternoon for one week. Just enough time for those pasty folks to get a sunburn and come home. In the meantime Dad and Dave are hosting a Man Night here at the house where there will no doubt be much card playing and m'antics.

I had my last day at the Smelly Deli yesterday and while it hasn't really hit me yet, I'm very happy to put that place behind me. Oh the trouble that place has caused me. I will miss the food though and the little flowered patio. Also I was duped somehow when I informed you that I was almost done with Finn. It's not true. He's like a bad rash.

In family news, Ellen has decided to search out another profession but will continue to work for the Old Man while she sorts herself out. Dad has become put-off by eating the same dinners week after week and is now partaking in a effort to "spice up dinner time." I accompanied him to grocery store the other day and he became fixated on creating the perfect antipasto platter. He scampered around the grocery store grabbing pickled vegetables and cheeses all the while mumbling to himself about how "perfect these will be for my antipasto." He must have used the word antipasto 16 times during our search and I became tickled at how focused he was on this mission.
"Ohh! These are good for an antipasto!" he would say and then look up at me for confirmation.

I went for a windy windy walk over the big bridge. It was a little grey out when I left and it only got worse and worse before a big storm rolled in and the rain came a-pourin'. Being especially clever, I foresaw the impending doom from the top of the bridge and I hightailed it back down again just in time to avoid the downpour. I also spent all of last week house and dog sitting over at Ari's. I wanted to photograph Ari's house for you as it has always been an intriguing, art-filled residence that Lukas once described as a tribal museum. There are so many exciting breakables in her house. Sometimes I find myself stepping over the rugs because it just doesn't seem right to walk on them. As I started to do this I realized it was a little creepy and maybe even illegal. So I stopped. But if you ever get the chance to go in there, by golly you should take it!

Thus begins my week long blogging hiatus. I shall return with real photos and ridiculous tales.

Oldies But Goodies

While I anxiously await my own decision making, I found myself shuffling through old adventures and I became equal parts giddy and frustrated. Just when I think I'm ready to hang my Europe hat for a while, I hear a particular little tune that I heard for the first time in Greece and I was slapped in the face with desire. I shalln't tell you what song it was for even I agree it is grounds for quitting a friendship.

But what of my South American adventures or heading out west for the summer? I've never had so much trouble making a decision, though you weren't here last week when I was forced to choose between pizza or wings. I'm convinced this just can't be done. I ended up with both options and the most delicious ginger ale I've had in sometime now. This all resulted in a grand and debilitating stomach-ache that accompanied me to bed, work, and then bed again.
I tried to hide my pain from the folks at work but nothing gets past them and they spent the entire day taunting me and rubbing my belly.

Oh perhaps we should make a game of all this. You tell me where to go, I'll tally the votes and book a flight. Gosh that makes my life sound so whimsical! ...Or perhaps snooty. Either way.

While I mull it over. Enjoy these Oldies.