Lady and the Shrimp

First of all, I am back home. Yeah. So very happy. Actually, the sun is shining and it is kinda pretty out there.

The night before we left Manzanillo (nice transition, huh?), Derrick, Tia and I went out for one last dinner in Mexico. We went to a restaurant on the beach called "Charlie's Place". Our waiter was Rico Suave, smooth as silk, with love in his eye for my sis-in-law, an affinity for calling me "Lady", as if that were my name, and an expertise in ignoring my husband, except for when it was time to give him the bill at the end.

There was a moment during the meal that should have made my ears tingle or my intuition spark, or just somehow should have made me question the wisdom of eating my meal.

I had drank two Mishaladas (Corona with a lotta lime juice) by the time I ordered the garlic shrimp. Derrick ordered fajitas, and Tara ordered Orange Shrimp. I have to say, my meal was delicious- huge shrimp for around 100 pesos.

When Rico came around for the "How good is it" check up, he hovered around Tia for a couple minutes, chatting about this and that (she is fluent in Spanish, so I have no idea what they were talking about), and then he asked her in english how she liked her meal. She replied that it was good. He didn't even bother asking Derrick about his meal. He turned his attention to me for one second, "So Lady, how is YOUR meal?" I replied that it was delicious.

And then the "shoulda got my attention moment" happened. He stopped, looked me in the eye and said, "Really??" and I don't mean as in "really, I am happy your food is good", but more as in"REALLY? What a complete and utter surprise, I was pretty sure we were going to be carting you out of here in a body bag... cuz that is what I usually aim for in my LADIES..." But, the shrimp was REALLY good... so when he left our table, I teased Tia about about him for a second, mocked how he had said "Really?!?" to me, and scarfed down the whole meal. I practically licked the plate. I'm pretty sure I stole a couple of Tia's shrimp when she wasn't looking.

Enter two o'clock in the morning when I am tossing and turning, dreaming about weird things happening in my stomach. You know that horrible moment when you awake a night a realise that it is going to be ONE OF THOSE NIGHTS. Oh no. I laid really still for awhile. But then I realised that there was no fighting it. I gave myself over to the Beast of Food Poisoning.

I will spare you the details. I'm pretty sure you've all been there. By the next morning I was a wrung out rag of a Lady, who will not be eating shrimp again any time soon.

Poor Derrick had to do all of our packing for the trip home (Kathrine packed for the kids, THANK YOU KATHRINE!!!). Derrick and Tia (maybe her shrimp was from a different pot?) went to the pharmicia and got me some medicine to help me make the two flights home.

We left for the airport at 1:30 and I drug on through the next 10 hours by laying on benches in the airport with my head on Derrick's lap, sleeping with my head on Dave's shoulder during the flights (Derrick was on kid patrol), and basically just being in survival mode til we got home. I have to say, I wouldn't have made it without Derrick, Dave, Kathrine and Tia carrying me along.

So to conclude my story, I lived. And I really am glad to be home!

My Bum in the Sun

One of the first rules you hear about in Mexico is don..t drink the water. One of the second rules probably might be: don..t eat sushi in ....Mexico..... We just went to Senor Sushi..s. The only one I could talk into going with me was Derrick, and he swears it will be the last crazy food expedition he will ever go on with me (that goes against his gut instinct) if we both end up sick tonight with food poisoning. The Miso soup was to DIE for. I took pictures, don..t you worry.
The thing is, that while I love ..Mexico.. (more specifically I love ME in ....Mexico....), I can not tolerate the food down here very well. Every time we eat out I get semi-sick. We have spent most of the week shopping for groceries and just eating at home for that very reason. I have eaten real Mexican fare exactly two times here, and both times my stomach was not loving me. We actually ate at a Burger King here. How lame is that? I even hate that place in the states. ....

We went deep sea fishing Thursday. It was a first for me. We caught a lot of "little" Bonitas (actually they were around 14 or ..15 inches..), and then David Jr. and Sr. both reeled in one Mahi Mahi each. They are BEAUTIFUL. They are BIG. They were both at least three or four feet long. I caught one of the Bonitas and then retired to the top of the boat where I drank a lot of beer and fell asleep in the sun. I burned quite nicely, especially my legs, and more specifically my knees. Ow!....

Besides all that, there has been a lot of bumming around in the sun. There was more going on at the beach today since it is Saturday. There was even a guy selling homemade ice cream cones! The only thing that would make it more perfect is if all my amigas were here to enjoy it with me. Miss you guys. Our time is almost up here. We are flying back on Tuesday, so I better finish soaking up the sun while I can.....

A Mexican Girl Who Only Speaks English

So here we are in an internet café in Manzanillo, listening so some crazy loud music coming from the alley way. My sisinlaw Tia and I are out on the town this afternoon. That should scare you because of the fact that I am the driver. Driving in Missoula is challenging enough for me- I get in near death experiences there all the time, and I even know all of the traffic rules. We have nearly died at least three times today. We are only alive due to the fact that the people here have been kind and allowed us to live. That is not to say that we have not been honked at and screamed at in Spanish. I, however, choose to believe that they are screaming encouragement, as in "Please, my dear beautiful gringa, be careful!!! You have so much to live for."
The house we are staying in is AWESOME. It is right on the beach. It is so close to the beach that we here waves lapping against the shore at night while we are in our beds. There is a housekeeper.She does LAUNDRY.I think I love her. There is a little swimming pool between the house and the beach, so when the kids aren..t playing in the sand and ocean, they are jumping in the pool over and over and …. Over.We are MAKING Derrin get out and actually drink and eat today. He didn..t drink anything yesterday, and by last night he was so dehydrated he looked like he had two black eyes.

Last night Kloe put on her little orange dress I bought her in Mexico last year.She was dancing around the pool singing,"I am a Mexican girl!! Mexicaaaaannnn Guuurrrrrrllll".She stopped in front of her uncle David and said ,"I am a Mexican girl.Am I pretty?"Too which he agreed, she is indeed a pretty Mexican girl. So she asked him to teach her SpanishSo he first told her how to say "Good Morning". Buenos Dias. She mastered it easily. She was indeed a Mexican girl. So he proceed on to "See you later. Hasta Luego. Turns out not so easy. She started,"asta lugo...esta legoand then stopped, looked up at David and said,"I am a Mexican girl. A Mexican girl who only speaks English".All I can say to that is AMEN and ME TOO.

red crayons and pickles

So, here I am, sitting in my robe (it's already 11:30 and I'm still not even dressed, although I am showered), and there is a gigantic, disgusting mess waiting to be cleaned up on the kitchen floor, and a daughter in the bathtub. I will tell you more about that later.

Packing for any vacation is always a dreaded chore for me. I was never good at doing it for myself (all that planning! oh dread...), but add to that the chaos of trying to get ready for anything with and for kids, and you might as well just shoot me now. Everything is a struggle. Nothing goes right.

Last night, just trying to get through the laundry was impossible. My last load of jeans was in the dryer, and I was feeling triumphant because as soon as that was folded I would be more securely in the "packing zone". The thing is, jeans are sometimes a suprise affair for me. I always forget to check the pockets before I start washing, and it has bit me in the behind many times. Yesterday, it was a red crayon. It melted on every single stinking pair of pants I washed, and they were all the good ones I wanted for our trip!!! AAHH!!! It took me over an hour to scrub every little melted scrap out. Thankfully they all came clean, but the incident has set a mood for the whole packing experience (that and my already bad attitude. I know I am a whiner. Sue me.)

So far this morning I have gathered my bathroom stuff together to be packed tomorrow morning, and I have packed my jewlery I plan on using. That is as far as I have gotten because of the pickles. Let me tell you about the pickles.

Kloe woke up this morning in the mood for apple juice and milk. I have neither on hand because I have resisted getting groceries since we are leaving town in the morning. She was not in the mood for oatmeal, toast, cereal, or any of the other items I have on hand. So I went in to take a shower while she decided what she wanted. While I am in the shower, a jar of pickles comes creeping through the shower curtain. Turns out pickles are exactly what she wants for breakfast. I say OK. Pickles are a vegetable right? Very healthy for your average five year old (she turned five yesterday!). So I open the jar for her and send her on her way with strict instructions not to spill the pickles on the carpet.

When I came out of the bathroom, Kloe was sitting on the couch, holding her stomach, saying "I don't feel so good. I feel busy (she meant dizzy)". I look around for the jar of pickles. They are ALL GONE. And most of the juice is too. Oops. Forgot to tell her about the dangers of drinking pickle juice. I know the temptation all to well.

"Do you want some oatmeal honey", I ask, very concerned at this point. "Sure Mommy", she says back, thinking mommy knows what will make her feel better.

Turns out, not such a great idea. As soon as she smelled the oatmeal she started hurling gallons of little chewed up peices of pickles (and egg? How did that get in there?) all over my kitchen floor. Where it remains until I finish this blog (I could either deal with it by writing it down, or just start drinking early. The blog barely won). I could not face it just yet.... but....

Okay. Here I go. I'm rolling up the sleeves to my robe. Maybe sometime today I will actually get to pack.