We arrived Thursday afternoon. See how happy I look? That's because I read my book for nearly 2 hours straight on the airplane, and nobody bugged me. Plus, I'm in Cabo, which doesn't make me sad, either. Okay, I'm standing up in this one, too, but if you lie down on the runway, someone might think you are crazy or high, and you might get a body cavity search.
After we checked in, they loaded our bags into a golf cart and took us to our room. Andrew was just coming back from some important business at the pool. I stepped out of the cart, and part way on to a low step separating the garden from the walkway. I was thrown off balance, but just barely. I knew I was going down, but not quickly. I had time to flail my arms around a bit, then think to myself: "self, you should grab the armrest on the front seat of that golf cart, then you won't fall into the bougainvillea and make a scene." So I grabbed it, but the seat was not hooked down, so then I'm holding the seat high aloft and falling down, down, into the planter. Somehow, I caught myself, put the chair back in its rightful place on the cart, and stood up. Everyone is looking at me. Without a pause or even a word of greeting, Andrew pipes up in Spanish, telling the hostess lady that I really like to drink. I think there were hand motions, too. Which is a pretty funny joke. Only she doesn't crack a smile, and says something roughly translated as "Hey, we are in Mexico. That's cool."
Here I am, doing something important like thinking about whether I want my chips with guacamole or salsa. (Answer: both.) Or maybe I'm thinking about Mexicanisimo, the buffet from the previous night. Overheard at the Mexicanisimo dessert table: Father says to his daughter "Hey, lay off the lady fingers." What sort of off-the-grid, underground lair in Kansas must this guy live in, to have seen nary a churro in all his years? Has he never been to Disneyland, or even less exotic places like the Costco snack bar? And if his daughter has never had the pleasure, either, let her eat what she likes. Only, they shoulda tried the flan, as well. It was quite remarkable, as flan goes.
It was hard to leave Cabo, but I got two more hours of reading in on the plane (book turned surprisingly sad, and, blind-sided, I found myself in tears. Hungover plane neighbors probly did not judge me too harshly. They felt like weeping, too, as the ocean disappeared into the clouds.
I returned home to some good Mother's Day loot. Cards, a beaded fan and bracelet from Ross, a bookmark, necklace and ring (which has a beaded tail that hangs down about 5 inches from my hand) from Sam, a card and poem from Jane, and flowers from Jake. My Mom made green chile burritos to alleviate our culture shock and help us smoothly re-assimilate into Arizona society. It is good to be home.
Now to the laundry. Mi ropa esta muy sucio. Except, I keep hearing a rustling sound coming from the laundry area, and I'm pretty sure there is something alive in there. It sounds too big to be una cucaracha. Maybe it is el chupacabra.