The Absolute Best Time to get Your Saturday Night....

Wait....What? Saturday what?

I remember...something about Saturday night.....but it's been so long everything's kind of fuzzy.

Bomp Chicka...Chicka...Chi...Oh, never mind.

My hair looked better in Mexico (Part 1)

Really. It was bouncy and shiny and curly without being frizzy. It was the kind of hair I can't get here no matter how much goop I use in it or how much time I take with it. Maybe it was the humidity; maybe it was the water. All I know is that here I am back in good old Humboldt - and my hair is back to its normal frizzy and unruly state of being, much like my mind.

This is by no means a complete travelogue. Who really wants to be bored with all the details of someone else's vacation? It's just a few selections from the journal I wrote in madly every time we were still, as well as some photos from our time in the Yucatan.



Tuesday, December 4
The smell of jasmine is overwhelming as we sit drinking cafe con leche at a little restaurant in the center of town. The voyage was long and exhausting. We drove to San Francisco, took a bus to the airport, flew to Guadalajara, Mexico City and then Cancun, took a bus to Playa del Carmen and somehow ended up on a slow-moving chicken bus to our final destination. After 30 continuous hours of traveling, we finally arrived in Tulum. Our hostess Janet welcomed us and quickly showed us all we needed to know: which taqueria was pretty but served awful tacos, how to turn on the hot water, the joys of Mexican toilets, and where to find good coffee in the morning. I immediately jumped into a cool shower. Squirrel followed, sweetly attempting to make it our first romantic honeymoon event. I was ridiculously afraid of getting the water in my mouth and couldn't enjoy kissing him.

We walked downtown for dinner but were too tired to do any real exploring, so we ended up eating at a restaurant decidedly geared toward tourists. I watched in horror as the couple across from us poured catsup on their tacos. Our food was mediocre at best, but the cerveza was cheap, ice cold, and at that point the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. Back at the Posada Luna del Sur, we were both asleep by 9.


This afternoon we took a taxi to the beach. I wept when I saw the ocean. Any words I could use to describe the colors and the warmth and the utter beauty would be no different than any other cliche' ever written about the amazing Caribbean waters.



Wednesday, December 5
Today I spent the morning walking through the cemetery, across the main road and through the back streets to where the town butts up against the impassable jungle. The farther I walked, the more smiles and stares I got.


I love the dusty, dirty pueblo with children and turkeys running around and laundry hung on roofs and in backyards. Many of the women here still wear the traditional huipils - white dresses trimmed in beautiful flowered embroidery. There are shrines in every yard to the Virgin of Guadalupe and Christmas lights in the palm trees. As I move by I can hear the lilting voices of the women talking to each other - some inside their houses; some outside. This is the first time that I've deeply wished to know Spanish. I can communicate basic needs, and it hasn't bothered me up to this point that I can't understand the conversations around me. In some ways it's extremely peaceful in its isolation. But I would like to understand the women - to listen in brief passings and perhaps overhear their favorite jokes...or their latest troubles...or what they plan to cook for dinner...or their dreams for their children.


Thursday, December 6
I am sitting under a tree in the heart of the Yucatan jungle waiting while Squirrel is climbing the large pyramid Nohuch Mol. I thought I might want to climb it too when we got here, but by the time we did, and I looked up at the people butt-scooting their way down with barely contained panic, the only thing I could say when Squirrel asked if I would join him was "Hell no!"

I imagined myself becoming a Mayan sacrifice, my body contorting in the air until I landed on the ground with my neck twisted underneath me. Only in this case, instead of being flung gloriously from the top by a warrior, I would have gotten my sandal caught on the edge of a rock, lost my balance and toppled to my death, hitting every stone step on the way down. It's debatable whether the fall or the sheer embarrassment would have killed me first.

Hey Anonymous Asshole.....

Yeah, you. You know, you just left a nasty message on my cousin's post. I'm really sorry you have such a miserable life. Actually...that's not true. I couldn't care less. Stay the hell away. Hear me?

I just got done having my bus hijacked by the Mexican military on the way to Cancun for so long (and with a 50-caliber automatic weapon pointed at the bus the entire time) that I missed my flight and had to pay a boatload of extra money for a new one and spent the next two straight days traveling...with oh-my-god-I-got-so-drunk-I-drank-the-water-stomach issues....so I am NOT in the mood to put up with your crap.

Go to hell.

Bah Humbug...

I know that the gauntlet has been thrown down by my ever talented cousin Kristabel. Normally, would try to rise to the occasion, however, I have other pressing issues at hand.

Burt and I work for the same agency. He is with one union (AFSCME) and I am with another (OEA). As of Friday the 30th, his union went out on strike. Our agency is making this an ugly battle in which no one will emerge without deep scars.

Financially we have planned for a rainy day but with the economy and the coming holidays, our umbrella can only take so much before it turns itself completely inside out from the strain.

I'm not sure how companies/agencies can expect their workforce to take such a large health care hit. Burt loses money each and every year.

So I'm sorry I'm not in the mind frame to entertain. If you are reading this and thinking "What about their Mexico trip when they were 18?", you'll have to wait another day until life returns to, well, whatever it was before.

The Decision

Thanks so much for the (mostly) fantastic book suggestions. I've now added many to my already horribly long To-Read List. I guess it just means I'll have to spend a lot more time on warm beaches. So here's what's going in the bag:

On the Right: The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. It sounds contemporary, interesting, both Jon and Jen recommended it, and it was already sitting on my shelf.

On the Left: Part 1 of the erotic Sleeping Beauty series written by Anne Rice. Chains and riding crops and sex slaves....what else is there to say? An oldie but a goodie.

And in the Center: Me Write Book....a bigfoot memoir written by the big guy himself - in his own words. This may seem like an odd choice, but truly, this is one of the funniest books I've ever read. I read it over and over again and every single time I end up giggling uncontrollably and snorting wine out my nose. In fact, just so you'll know what I'm talking about, here's a little excerpt for your reading pleasure:

"I get away with murder cause everyone think I fragile since I last of kind and so on. One bad thing about it though that I attract lots poachers. Apparently me gal bladder give Chinese people boners. Funny cause Chinese people give me boner too but Bigfoot digress.

One time poacher try to get Bigfoot organs. He expert Safari hunter and spend weeks stalking me and learning Bigfoot ways. He see my love for Count Chocula and hide in fridge disguise as giant milk carton. Day before he want poach Bigfoot decide go low carb diet so no Chocula. Man freeze to death in fridge.

Bigfoot also have cirrhosis at time so it convenient for me use him for liver transplant donor. Bigfoot enjoy irony."

How totally freaking funny is that?! You all just feel free to express your worry about the state of my mental health in the comments section.

I'm ending this with a challenge for my darling cousin Keri. Hello? Are you there? Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write a story about the last time you and I crossed the border - into Tijuana when we were 18. Remember? Something about donkeys and margaritas and cute Mexican boys and terrible haggling skills. It's all coming back to you, isn't it? Sweet anonymous needs entertaining, so it's up to you. Love you!

So...we're off. See you later. I'll miss you all. But I'll be back in a couple of weeks with plenty of tequila and plenty of stories.

P.S. Damn! How cute do my toes look? (Thanks for the pedicure, Mom!)

I Need Your Help!

In five days this will be me.

Except my skin is much paler with a lot more freckles. And my assets are much more ample. And the thought of my ample assets spilling out of a bright orange bathing suit top is downright frightening. And I don't have a cute sun hat. And do those look like man hands to you? And if it were really me, there'd be a great big margarita sitting there in the sand. And a cabana boy wearing very tight swim trunks and carrying a bottle of massage oil and a ripe papaya.

Squirrel and I are heading to the Yucatan on Sunday. He's going to be climbing pyramids, learning about Mayan history, trekking in the jungle and snorkeling in the cenotes. I'm going to be eating, drinking, making friends, drunkenly dancing and looking for cheap souvenirs to bring back for Christmas presents. And eating. And drinking.

It may sound like we have very different interests while on this little vacation, but don't worry. It's our honeymoon after all, so the fact that every morning, afternoon and evening is going to be Saturday Night will be the common thread that will hold the whole thing together.

And this is where you come in because while I'm basking in the sun and drinking margaritas, I'll need something delicious to read. I've scoured the shelves of bookstores today and have come up empty. I've looked at my own collection, and while there are plenty of books I probably should have read by now, none of them seem quite right. So I'm now pleading for your advice. Won't you help a girl out? Please? If you don't, I'm afraid Squirrel's going to sneak "50 Simple Things You Can Do to Fight the Right" in my bag. And if you think I'm reading that on the beach, you're crazier than he is.

What would you read?

Need something to do with all those Thanksgiving leftovers?

Here's the answer to your problem.

This is an email I received yesterday through Humboldt Freecycle, a fantastic way to get rid of your junk - or to get some more.



Make too much for Thanksgiving? Don't know what to do with all those leftovers? Let a starving student take them off your hands! You provide the food, I'll provide the containers. I can travel just about anywhere in Arcata that's within a few miles of downtown (on foot). Email or call me at xxx-xxxx . I can pick up Thursday evening or anytime Friday. Anything I can't eat will be shared with other students.


Thanks in advance,
Scott



I think anyone willing to take a risk like this definitely deserves to get his wish fulfilled, and believe me, if I didn't live in the middle of nowhere, I'd be donating to the cause. So if you're not a member of Freecycle and you want to help this courageous young man, send me an email, and I'll hook you up.

And Scott...here's wishing you a long weekend filled with turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes and free of salmonella, hepatitis, errant hairs or other assorted germs and surprises.