My welcome-home gift was kids who are sick again. Or should I say still. Unbelievably, we are all still suffering from the same blasted virus; they are at week six and I’m at whopping week seven. The plane ride home was hellacious as I thought my ears were going to explode. I’ve been left with an inner-ear condition that leaves me [brace yourselves] even more dizzy and lightheaded than usual.
Poor Grandma’s only outings last week were taking the kids to the doctor. When I retrieved them on Monday morning, she looked like the lone survivor of a hurricane. The Hurricane. I don’t think she’ll fully recover enough to watch them again until 2009. My only consolation is this at least added validity to my sufferings the entire month prior.
InSecurities
The cruise was amazing, possibly my best vacation ever. It didn’t start out that way when I had an atrocious encounter with a cold-blooded security chick that not only dismantled my carry-on but proceeded to confiscate most items in it. Because I was planning to blow up the plane with my exceedingly threatening mascara and lipstick. I could handle the loss of these items but when she impounded The Only Gel on the Earth That Can Tame This Mane, I lost it. A week with inexorable bad hair days was more than I could handle.
Bejeweled
Fortunately it got better (the trip, not the hair). We sailed via the Norwegian Jewel, a beast of a ship with oodles of luxuries that we enjoyed to the fullest: the amazing shows, outstanding ports, workout/sports facilities, kicking the boys’ butts in shuffleboard, a murder mystery where ma honey turned out to be Mersad, Mr. KGB, and freestyle dining at the restaurants. All those glorious, glorious restaurants where we averaged about 10,000 calories. And that was just before noon.
It took less than 24 hours for me to catch the cruise bug—impressive for even me. Of course, it hit right before the meal I have craved for two years since my last cruise: the Beef Wellington and Lobster at the Captain’s Dinner. Because there’s nothing like experiencing it all the second time around in the bathroom afterwards.
I Left My Poop…in Puerto Rico
My little condition was still lingering when we hit our first port: Puerto Rico. We signed up for the ship’s shore excursion through the national rainforest, El Yunque. Our 5-mile hike to La Mina Falls had all the makings for an eco-tourist paradise and Ivan and Jamie delved into the crystal-clear waters.
But while others enjoyed the falls and the exotic flora and fauna, I spent much of the time analyzing which plant had “crouch-behind-ability” potential.
It gives a whole new perspective to getting back to nature. And the true origin of the yukka plant…
In Cruisin’ for a Brusin’ Part II, stay tuned for details of the gay Chippendale dancer who made a play for us and the day we were almost assaulted by a local after my attempts at bartering.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 