To Mexico and back again...

Well we made it...I'm not going to sugar coat it; living in Phoenix we are constantly barraged with the going ons in Mexico along the border and frankly I was just a {smidgen} scared of venturing into the country.  But I was pleasantly surprised. 

The husband and I landed in Cancun on a Wednesday to 90 degree temperatures and 100% humidity.  At first it was a nice change from 108 dry heat of the Sonoran Desert.  Waiting for our transport to Playa del Carmen we enjoyed an adult beverage from the over-priced airport cantina under wispy palms, relishing the soft ocean breeze.  The transportation representative was reassuring us that it would only be two more minutes before our resort van would be there to pick us up; this would be our first taste to just how different time is viewed from country to country.  Two minutes passed by, then ten and fifteen.  "Just two minutes more, Senor," we were assured.  My drink was gone in the first two minutes and now I was left with a lime and melting ice, but we were not let down and soon we were being ushered to our awaiting van and swept off to our resort, a mere 50 minutes from the Cancun Airport. 

Upon reaching our resort we were met with friendly faces and some sort of appletini...I think.  Another {short} two minutes and were being led to our room.  I was impressed by the room, albeit the bed was a bit hard, but after a scrumptious dinner filled with Italian fare of linguine and clams and a couple more beverages any bed was a welcomed sight. 

The next morning after breakfast we made our way out to the Caribbean to catch some rays and enjoy some reading.  This didn't last very long as the pages in my book begin to look as if someone had given them a perm.  Note to self:  Paper and humidity do not mix.  I would have to finish the book I renewed from the library, four times to date, another time.  This did, however, free our time to enjoy the "tranquility pool" on the roof where little did I know I would incur the most epic sunburn of all time. 

Yes, my nose was purple, but that does not compare to the disaster that used to be my chest.  It was so burned it was white.  I didn't even know this could happen! Regardless, after encountering the dry, freezing air on the plane coming home, my skin has begun to look like a broiled chicken thigh, the kind with the crispy skin. 

With a burn of such epic proportions, I felt it was important to try and avoid the sun as much as possible for the rest of the trip, but we were in Mexico.  Outside of the water the sun and humidity started to become a little oppressive, so I found myself applying sunscreen every 15 or so minutes and submerging my body as far as I could into the water.  I managed to not re-burn the already too burned portions of my body and I am content with that.

Surprisingly I made it through the wedding with only several people commenting on the unhealthy hue of my skin.  I must give credit where due and most were quite couth simply stating, "Oh, my, you got a little pink, dear."  Indeed I did. 

For the rest of the trip I managed to stay virtually unscathed, outside of the infamous toe stub that landed me a date with a paramedic.  Just for the record, it wasn't at all serious; I think that all other countries must view Americans as a liability.  I feel silly that I was afraid to visit this country - I even ventured off the resort and into the marketplace.  If I would have skipped it, I would have missed a very beautiful wedding and missed out on seeing what a wonderful country Mexico really is.  Next time I visit Playa however, I think I will skip the resort, stay in the shopping district and visit in the winter. 

113 and still climbing...

It was 113 today; it will be 115 tomorrow and 116 the day after.  People often shake their heads and say, "Oh, but it's a dry heat." Yeah?  So is an oven - just think, your food warmer is set at 120 degrees.  Now comes the time every Phoenician dreams of moving to the north where there are seasons and the summer season temps top out at 100 degrees - and that is HOT.  Every summer we dream of moving, every winter we are thankful for the absence of the ice and snow.  Nothing beats cruising in your car the day after thanksgiving with the windows down, shorts on and Christmas music blasting.  I'm trying to let this luxury distract me from the fact that tomorrow I will wake up to 91 degrees at 5:30 a.m. 

The heat is especially noticeable to the husband and I now that we have returned from our vacation in Montana.  We cruised into Montana on a rainy Saturday where the temperature topped out at about 60 degrees.  For the first half of the week we enjoyed 60s and 70s with rain showers off an on.  By the end of the week the temperature rose to a balmy 85 degrees just in time for Boat Float.

What's Boat Float, you ask?  Boat Float is the one weekend of the year that puts Big Timber, Montana on the map.  Hundreds of miles of river are tackled every year by a horde of drunken sailors during the second weekend of July.  I'm pretty sure all 50 states and several different countries are represented as rafts, drifters and hand-crafted boats alike float down the river sounding the universal call of BOOOAAAATTTT FLLOOOAAT!  This year I had the pleasure of sailing with some of the finest as three rafts were tethered together creating our own little floating island of fun.  We were in want of nothing as our chef prepared bistro style sandwiches with turkey/pesto and ham/tapenade; beer was aplenty and I believe I even saw homemade margaritas!


We pulled off the river after 7 hours and 40 miles to mingle with old friends and taste some home-brewed beer.  Sun-kissed and drenched, we stumbled about gaining our "land-legs" and gawking at all the other sailors - most of which are still calling out BOOOAAATTT FLLLOOOOAAATT in desperate attempts to rally the troops - their fallen comrades who aren't answering back can usually be found passed out in the rafts, back of pick-ups or off in a grassy ditch somewhere.  It is best to let them rest, because tomorrow is another day of sun, floating and beer.

Only 360 days left until next year's boat float - you stay classy, Montana.  I promise we will be up again next year - hopefully having recruited a new batch of boat floaters.

It's not a Diet!!!

Is it me, or does a brown van driving up the street playing creepy "come and get ice cream" music, scream something out of a horror movie, or Richard Bachman's "Regulators"?  A brown van cruises my neighborhood every night around 5:30 or 6:00 and occasionally on the weekends.  I think it used to carry seafood in its former life, because, as most cars in Phoenix with any appliques, there is faded paint reading: "come and get your crab"on the sliding door.  Regardless, I never see kids running to it like in the movies, and I tend to run from it when I hear it creeping up the street behind me while I take my dogs for their evening stroll.  Funny enough, tonight as I sit watching my back-to-back episodes of Friends on TBS (dreading my required hour of gym time that is still glaring at me from my to-do list) I now want ice cream.

Good thing I have my sugar-free raspberry Jell-o *gag* to kill my sweet tooth.  I don't want to call it dieting but I am going back to my hometown in July, and have this neurosis that is preventing me from eating any more than three balanced meals a day - no snacking.  Ugh, it is miserable and I am always staring lovingly at the candy drawer at work, but at least when I eat I can eat more than an ounce of boiled chicken breast and a quarter cup of whole grain rice without the dreaded calorie counting.

Why is it that you always want to look good when you see people you haven't seen in two years, but when you were living there it was no big deal to drink yourself into a stuper and find yourself being rescued by your brother after you passed out on the catering tables in the back room of the local Legion Post?  It is okay to get completely obliterated and have public displays of affection (this was never, ever me) with complete strangers at a street dance after a rodeo, participate in wet t-shirt contests (not me either) and throw drunken scenes in bars with your parents' friends present, but heaven forbid you put on five pounds from the last time you were home...two years ago.

While I feel them judging me for becoming fat, I also sense their disapproving stare, especially in the middle of the summer, and then they say, "I thought you were living in Phoenix, where is your nice tan?"  I want to scream at them, "Have you ever sat on metal pool furniture after it has been sitting in direct sunlight for 6 hours in 115 degree heat?"  Phoenicians that are tan in the summer are tan by other means - none of which include lounging in that heat.  All that aside, I am excited to come home - I miss it; it will always be "home" to me, and besides it wouldn't be home if you weren't ready to run screaming from town at the end of the week :)

I don't want to be that girl, but...

I'm tired. I took entirely too much school too quickly with way too much job. (Bear with me, my rant is almost finished) I would very much enjoy curling up and finishing my Arthur trilogy without that constant nagging feeling that I should be doing something else. The worst part about the whole school ordeal is that nearly 10 years ago I completed AP English in high school, tested out of English 101 in college and graduated with an English degree. Fast forward 10 years and here I sit, taking English 102 because evidently I need to have that class for my new degree. So as I write my paper on an all too predictable dichotomy of "superhuman" woman protagonist versus the bioengineering misogynistic antagonist, I find myself dumbing it down so the professor doesn't catch on to the fact that maybe I might have spent five years perfecting my bullshitting skills and in turn read my papers with the "I know you graduated with an English degree; this is not your best work" eye. (Is that a run-on sentence?) End Rant.

Recently I picked up running again, probably about 5 weeks ago, and I am finding that when done correctly and in moderation running can be a decent stress reliever. The husband and I competed in our first 5k race of the year last weekend; it was a skirt chaser race...and that is not just a clever name. The women racers were granted a 3 minute head start and all were wearing skirts - my husband still raced past me at just about the 2 mile mark. Regardless, I finished and though I won't mention my time strictly because it is still quite embarrassing, it was a good 6 and 8 minutes faster than my last two 5k's. We are thinking we may do the half marathon again in 2011 if the training holds up; we are both in agreement that running 13.1 miles without training is a very silly decision. Our next race is in Tucson in March, we are boarding the dogs and making a weekend out of it, finally visiting Tombstone and the O.K. Corral!

The husband and I have planned a few getaways this summer, with the first one being a trip home. It will be two years in August since I have been back to Montana, and am very much looking forward to it. I have told my family that there are two things I must do before returning to Arizona...camp and float. I think between my father, sister and brother-in-law I have my bases covered...I just wish I weren't wishing it were July already - nobody in their right mind wishes for summer around these parts. We have another wedding in August, this time in Cancun...I know poor me.

Random Thoughts of 2010 and Other Updates

Can I just say that I LOVE Mario World Wii.  It is a mixture of all the best Mario Worlds AND you can play two, three or four player at the same time, so you do not have to wait turns!  Mostly it is me using Luigi, who is played by my husband, as a trampoline or a human shield - its music is even reminiscent of the original Mario World for the NES!

As I attempted to conquer World 8, a thought descended on me...why is that when I get touched by lava I immediately die - not just shrink or lose a power but die; yet I can crawl all over metal that has been submerged in lava and escape virtually unscathed?  I know, I know, the entire purpose of the game is to defeat a dinosaur after conquering worlds of walking mushrooms and turtle/duck looking things all to save a princess named Peach (who might I add is constantly getting herself into trouble - I'm beginning to think bitch deserves to be locked in tower, she isn't very smart) it isn't meant to be realistic, but I couldn't help but feel that this game, geared towards children, gives the skewed idea that metal is a poor conductor of heat.  It is a core principle in Chemistry and I'm sure they'll learn, most of them do the hard way.

Needless to say Mario World mixed with a little Human Anatomy and Physiology has taken a lot of my time lately and I have been unable to get much of my book marathon complete.  I started "Pilgrim's Progress" only to become increasingly peeved at a poor attempt at a Christian Allegory...it wasn't an allegory at all; John Bunyon made no attempt at all to make this a figurative piece of work, it was simply a sermon.

I started "The Winter King" - not on my list, but a very good novel about King Arthur's rise to power in Britain.  Quite different than any other Arthurian literature I have read in the past, and I can't wait to read the entire series.  I am 8th on the list to receive Bernard Cornwell's final book in his Saxon Stories series from the library, and maybe after that I will start the book marathon training again...I have a hankering to read Lord of the Rings again, and it is on the list.  I usually begin strong only to sputter to a halt with Tom Bombadil.  I think Peter Jackson was on to something when he left him out of the movie.