This Was NOT in the Brochure!

Live from Cancun, Mexico..

Exclusive footage from the Sun Palace…

Each day is more of the same, except stronger wind and harder rain. Apparently, this is the “adventure” part of our trip. We always experience something special when we travel.

Each morning hotel staff is on the beach putting up the red flags that mean “Danger – no swimming”. Like you could ‘swim’ in those big shore pounding waves. People will still try to wave jump or swim anyway, but the ocean wins.

No one will be coming home with a tan.

Two out of four restaurants closed because they have outdoor seating. The one we really wanted to go to on our anniversary is one of them.

No moonlit anniversary dinner, walks (or sex) on the beach. We know there is a full moon up there, but you can’t see it.

We have an HD TV in our suite, but it speaks Spanish.

Our light switches all work, however, they do not correspond with the location of the light. We have made this a game. Our home has the same kind of lighting.

The smallest can they make of Red Bull costs $5.oo. Unfortunately, it is the only sugar-free soda that isn’t Coke or Pepsi. The 8 ounce can will not even spoil a nap.

Tonight the entertainment is Karaoke. It could be fun to watch. Or not.

The jacuzzi in our suite is huge. We are afraid to use it because the air is already so damp.

Every morning at 6:30am the suite next door gets room service and they move furniture for 10-minutes. Sometimes they move furniture between 10:00pm and midnight. There is a gym around the corner we wish they would use instead.

Sometimes we hear toddlers stomping up and down the hallway. Then we remember there is no one here under 19. We are still trying to figure out what is making that noise.

Regardless, I doubt we have anybody’s sympathy back home.

We are making the most of it. At least the air is fresh and not smoky.

The air is heavy, damp, and warm here. Or there is something in the bottled water that makes you drowsy.  Yesterday, we took three naps. Today one for me and two for hubby (so far).

We have met some nice people from the UK and Canada.

Plenty of lounges to relax in. Sometimes we read. Sometimes I write while hubby naps or drinks margaritas.

The staff treats us like royalty.

I have not had to cook for four days. Or clean. 🙂

We are learning Spanish. When I’m asked for our room number I say “doscientas catorce”, like I’m bilingual or something. The locals, of course are on to me, but seem pleased that I’m trying. Or they are laughing at me. How would you tell the difference?

¡Hasta la vista!  Baby.

What’s Next?

A Guest Post by Susan

Well, after 43 years of marriage, you’d think I’d know what to expect.

I am a golf widow 5 days a week, sounds great, but he’s up at 4am to tee off at dawn and home by 10 am about the time my day is beginning, otherwise known as NO TIME TO MYSELF! It’s OK, I’ve adjusted. What I have not gotten used to is what he brings home at 6am!

One time an escaped dog, I had to find it’s owner while he went back to finish his game.

Another time it was an injured rabbit which I had him put in a box and cover so I didn’t have to face the bunny while I drove him to the humane society so he could recover?! And yes, he went back to finish his golf game.

Next time, he woke me up with an injured duck, seems he just crash landed on a green and couldn’t walk, this time he didn’t go back to his game cause someone had to keep the duck from struggling to get up while I drove to the humane society so he could get fixed!

The last time he surprised me early in the morning with a towel full of eggs (duck eggs) he found and was worried they were exposed! I asked him what he wanted, an omelet? Of course he was offended, I called the humane society to find out what we should do with them. I’m sure you would have done what they suggested, ‘PUT THEM BACK!’  After some discussion and protesting, he put them back.

I’m waiting to see what’s next…

Anybody need a bleeding heart golfer?

Better Late Than Never

A Guest Post by Jennifer Windram

My husband and I can’t be bothered with things like time and dates. We are above them, beyond them and oblivious to them.

It all began with our engagement. My husband planned to propose on an early morning hike, which of course was a surprise to me. Well, hiking in Colorado usually calls for some forethought, some planning. My soon to be fiancé took care of all the details (food, location, gear) but thought nothing of time. We slept in, lingered at breakfast. I was ready to give up the prospect of hiking–it was already past seven in the morning. But he was insistent and we went. We were too late to get good parking, the storms rolled in by the time we reached the top and the day was long gone by the time we descended. Lesson learned we told ourselves. We will never run late like that again.

Skip to our wedding day. We decided to elope in the San Juan Islands. The ceremony was in the afternoon so we went hiking. There was plenty of time right? Soon we were partway up the mountain, just a little more to go. We reasoned that it would be quicker going down. We’d have plenty of time. Nope. We were 30 minutes late to our own wedding.

A couple of years later and we can’t remember any of our anniversary dates. Our first date was some time in July, after the fourth is all I know. We finally head to the restaurant where we first wooed each other in August, maybe in September, because we can’t remember the exact date and forget about it anyway.

Last year, on our wedding anniversary, my parents sent us well wishes before I even realized the importance of the day.

This year, though, was the most embarrassing. We were on vacation in Colonial Virginia, staying at a lovely B&B. Guests were gathered on the patio, enjoying appetizers. We took turns sharing tidbits about our trips and why we chose to stay at this B&B.

The couple sitting next to me explained that they had gotten married at this B&B, a year ago to the day. It was their one-year anniversary. I nodded and congratulated them.

Then my husband elbowed me and said under his breath, “what day is it?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Sunday?”

“No, the date,” he whispered. “I think it’s our anniversary.”

I looked at the calendar on my phone and sure enough it was. Everyone seemed amused, maybe somewhat sorry for us–the poor couple that can’t even remember their own anniversary.

But that’s now how I see it. I feel like my life with him is one big blur of happiness. Time just flies. In my mind, there was no start date, it has always been. There is no need to count, or keep track, because just as we have always been, we will always be. Forever. When people ask me how long I’ve been married, I stumble over my words, quickly trying to do the math. I usually end up saying something like, “I don’t know. Around six or seven years. Who’s counting anyway?”

I’ll admit, though, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for our tenth or twenty-fifth anniversary. Those are biggies. Maybe by then we’ll have added the date to our calendar or at least have learned to always leave thirty minutes early. Even if we think we have time to get down the mountain, then get dressed, do our (my) hair, buy flowers, find the ceremony location…

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