I’m not sure about that verb tense up there, but what I’m trying to say is that we had a vacation in Mexico. I don’t know if one weekend counts as real live vacation, but it was so great, and so relaxing, that it sure felt like one.
We stayed at a lovely beach-front condo in lovely Puerto Penasco, Mexico, in the lovely Sea of Cortez. Immediately after checking in we headed to the bar where I downed my first ever shot of Just Only Tequila, a Patron something or other. I had an immediate flashback to the night I met StingRay Jim in San Angelo, TX at The Maxx 2000, when he gave me that shot of some horrid concoction called Windex and I tried so very hard not to throw up on my and his shoes. I didn’t, and StingRay Jim and I had a blissful love affair that continues to this day. No it doesn’t, but I still care about him and hope he’s ok. Anyway, shot of tequila. Few beers. First time ever drunk in public with Jungle Jim, but seeing as how “public” consists of each other, the barmaid, and two other hotel guests, who gives a fig.
Saturday morning we went strolling on the beach where I picked up many shells for my minions. JJ and I kept telling each other how great the beach was, and how much the kids would LOVE it, how we wished they were there but needed a grown-up vacation blah blah blah. He loves my children, but more on that later. After we had some breakfast we rented a jet ski. There was momentary strife about having one Jet Ski for three hours, two for one hour, one for two hours, blah blah blah, which ended in us having one for one hour. That’s fine; I’d never been on a jet ski in my life. Now, JJ is a pretty relaxed, sedate kind of guy. He never gets riled up about anything, except beach umbrellas, but that too will come later, so I figured we were going to have a nice, mostly calm little Jet Ski ride. Oh heavens no. That boy turned into a wild man the likes of which I’ve secretly pined for lo these many months. I was laughing wildly the whole time, as he whipped us around tight curves and splashed us through the wake left by other boats. The only thing I wanted was to NOT end up in the ocean. Please. We just watched Shark Week in its entirety. Well, naturally there was one turn he took too quickly and I went flying off the Jet Ski. As I burbled to the surface in a near panic, JJ raced back around. I don’t know what scared me most, being in the water with what I figured to be a baskillion sharks nearby, or being chopped up in the rotor of the Jet Ski engine. Jet skis don’t have rotors, I know this, but I was stunned and had lungs full of ocean water. If the sharks and rotor didn’t kill me, surely the gross ocean water would. So JJ zoomed back around in a near panic because I was screaming “Come and get me! Please get me out of here as quickly as possible!” He feared I was going to unleash The Wrath of Kath on him and demand to be taken back to the hotel and back home immediately. That was as foolish a fear as mine of sharks. We laughed and laughed after I was safely back on. So 15 minutes later he’s hot-shottin’ it again and this time dumps us BOTH into the water and tips the Jet Ski. Nice! I have bruises on my legs and one riiiiiiiiiiiiiight in the crack of my ass. And I’m all barnacle-scraped, too, but it was SO much fun. We flipped the thing right side-up and tried to head back but oh no, we’d run out of gas. Uh-huh. We got a tow back in, nothing exciting there.
Ok, I just realized how long and boring this is getting.
Later on we went out for dinner at a great place. As we sat there sipping drinks, eating chips and salsa, I said to JJ “Oh! You got a little sun!” to which he replied “Yes, and his name is Nolan!” Aw! To clarify, Nolan is my son, JJ is their unofficial future step dad, so my heart melted and I got teary-eyed. I love that man. Ok, the rest of the weekend was a blast. I bought a bag, it might be a fake but I’ll never tell since I don’t want to go to jail for bringing counterfeit goods back to the US. JJ bought cigars which might be Cuban but I’ll never tell since I don’t want him to go to jail for smuggling Cuban cigars into the US. And hey, since that purse is most likely a fake, (I know it is, I just don’t want to come right out and admit it) there’s nothing saying the cigars aren’t either. For all we know they were made of seaweed that washed up on shore.
And now, *sigh*, we are home again, but are already planning our second trip. This time we’ll take the minions.