Am sitting in the loveliest rocking chair on our condo balcony, listening to the ocean. It’s fabulous.
We love this little place – it was an internet booking, sort of a shot in the dark, but it’s been perfect for the two of us. Almost like a second honeymoon of sorts, except we’re older, we weigh more, and I stare longingly at the little kiddies instead of being annoyed by them.
There’s a little family down the beach from us a bit… a dad, a mom, and a little boy, probably less than a year old. I’ve been watching them. Had to restrain myself from surreptitiously taking pictures of them today because that would just be too hand-that-rocks-the-cradle-stalkerish. But I was severely tempted, which may indicate a decline in my mental state. It’s just not normal to want to take spy pictures of the family that you wish you were.
I really can’t express how much I’ve loved having Bobby to myself these past few days. I haven’t been competing with anything – not his phone or his laptop or his business. I didn’t realize how much I resented having to compete until all of my competition was eliminated. Actually, “resented” is too strong a word… I rarely actively RESENT Bobby’s work (as in the stereotypical, nagging wife screeching “you’re going to be late for dinner AGAIN?!?”), but I do miss him. I miss his attention, his conversation, being able to talk to him and actually getting a thoughtful response. At home, when he IS home, he’s on the laptop and his conversational responses consist of well-timed grunts. It’s definitely accurate to say that Bobby needed this vacation the most of the two of us, but I’m so enjoying having him to myself for a week.
I brought tons of reading material down here with me, but discovered after I arrived that’s all too edifying. I long for smut. I found a book that fit the bill perfectly in the bookcase here at the condo, but unfortunately finished it in a single day. Resorted to Danielle Steele today (also compliments of the condo bookcase)… I’ve tried many times, but I really just don’t like her books. The sentence structure and word choices are remedial – like reading “Romantic Novel for Dummies.” I mean, a girl has to have standards for her brain-rot, ya know?! May have to go back to the grocery store tomorrow to check out their smutty romance selection…. A good ole’ tried and true bodice ripper may be in order, although I’ve never found anything to top the book we had at the beach a few summers ago. The favorite line was “he longed for a woman to fill his wigwam with sunshine.” And no, dirty people, “wigwam” is not a reference to something else… it was a story of your classic well-muscled and virile Indian brave, wearing only a loincloth (of course), who actually had a wigwam that was unfortunately bereft of women and sunshine.
While I’ve been reading trashy paperbacks, Bobby has been plugged into his ipod. So far, he’s listened to podcasts about money, entrepreneurship, religion, and business. You can take the laptop away from the boy, but never fear, his ipod has rescued him from actually turning his brain off. Oh, and I’ve also discovered, after six years of marriage, that he has an irrational fear of horseflies. We’re talking RIDICULOUS – if there’s a horsefly within 25 yards, they sense each other and the battle begins. The horsefly starts buzzing around and Bobby starts flailing his arms and legs, and it would be amusing if he didn’t keep kicking sand into my drink. So today I made him sit downwind so that he and his horsefly friends could wrestle in peace without my interruptions. Horseflies?! Really?!?
Oh, and we’re on Day Two of the progesterone and can I just say that whoever the hell came up with sticking gooey refrigerated bullets up one’s hoo-ha is a sick-minded individual. But I’m doing it, damn it. No beastly mood swings or psychosis as of yet… maybe I won’t have any of the crazy side effects. Or maybe it’s just the soothing sounds of the ocean outside my window. Yeah, that’s probably it.