Paradise Lost

The Bahamas was wonderful. I had a fabulous time with my family. We swam, walked on the beach, wore lovely sundresses and sandals and left our jackets in the closet, enjoyed the beautiful wedding, ate way too much, I read a completely fluffy novel while Rowan napped, and I even snorkeled on a coral reef in the middle of the ocean. It was unbelievable! I didn't want to leave, but after grabbing a few quick souvenirs, the driver loaded my bags and I jumped on the shuttle for the airport.

Then the nightmare started.

3 different lines of security at the Nassau airport (the shoes off, computer out, whole bit, which is no fun once with a stroller and carseat and infant, much less three times), a zillion people all leaving at the same time (=long lines, very hot airport, few chairs), no lunch, a rough flight, then 4 hours of layover in Atlanta that became 7 hours when things were delayed over and over again, computer screens at the airport that stopped working (thus 8 thousand loud announcements = zero naps for Rowan), a billion zillion trillion people in Atlanta, 3 gate changes, a crying, tired, fussy baby, way too much stuff, not enough diapers, repeated announcements begging 4 people to leave the plane because we were "overweight" (I would have taken the deal they offered if they had thrown in a case of diapers and a toothbrush), lots of turbulence, worries because no one took their deal (would we plummet to the ground because of our weight problem?) and we finally landed in State College around 11:30 PM. And it was raining, and very cold. And we have no jetways. (The pilot himself carried my bag, and the flight attendant covered Rowan with a blanket so I could walk down the plane stairs and run across the tarmac.)

Luckily, I had 6 "surrogate grandparents" who helped me in Nassau and Atlanta and State College. I don't know what I would have done without their willing arms to rock the baby and help me carry the stroller and carseat, which had to be gate checked in Atlanta.

Then, this morning I went to boot up my computer to post a cute pic of Rowan in her bikini on the beach for you and lo and behold, it won't boot.

AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Back to reality. Sigh.




PS: I have a doctor's appointment today, so don't expect quick responses if you emailed me. I got lucky because Dr. B left his laptop at home, but when I get showered and get home from the doc's office (just routine getting-to-know-you, so I don't have to go to the ER for a headache), I have a boatload of laundry to do. Or should I say a planeload?

Thanks

So we're ready. The bags are packed, and way too heavy. Her bikinis, my capris, sunscreen and hats--we're prepared not only for our 5 day trip, but for a season in the Bahamas.

So while you're choking down dry turkey and washing it down with wine, I'll be wandering around the Atlanta airport for hours and hours, on my way to the Bahamas, with the baby.

Wish me luck. I agreed to sing at the wedding. (Gulp.)

I Look Exactly Like This

My sister's getting married in November in the Bahamas. And me being the super nice sister I am, I'm going. (Twist my rubber arm.) Dr. B is staying here. I know, that makes no sense to normal people, but to him it is very clear. He must pay off our debt (well, except student loans, the mortgage and the car) before he can do anything fun. He would just feel too guilty. (I don't understand either, but it's like the vacuum--you just don't argue with Mr. OCD.)

When I visited my aunt in August, we looked at the website for the resort we're going to be at for the wedding, and I realized that my stained and stretched out t-shirts and 4 year old capri pants just weren't going to cut it. So, I hit the Herberger's and bought a whole bunch of tropical-looking sundresses on 70% off. Got some new sandals, too. Found a bikini, sun hat and cover up for Rowan on clearance at Target. When visiting my sister the next week, we even found a dress for me to wear for the wedding at the BCBG Max Azria outlet. 40 bucks for a 400 dollar dress--not bad.

But, the thing I didn't have was a swimsuit. This being the Caribbean, I didn't think I could weasel my way out of wearing one too easily, and the last one I bought (in 2000 I think) was looking a little tired. It's so old, I'm not even sure the elastic still has the boing factor--I may be able to carry my suntan lotion in the extra room in the booty region.

But I hate suit shopping. Who doesn't? It sucks. The last time I had success was at a Lands' End inlet, after going through about 40 suits. Pick your reason for denial:

Smoosh the boobs
Poochy on the butt
Only fit when I slouch (I have a very long torso)
Two words: Michelin Man
So high in the leg I look like Jane Fonda circa 1983, only fatter
Make my skin look like dead fish flesh
Beefy
Bumpy
Squishy
Those fluorescent lights!

I'd heard Victoria's Secret had good suits. Really good.

Yeah, I didn't believe it either.

But, I gave it a go. To hedge my bets, I got a "long torso" size, 2 piece tankini. Ordered 2 sizes and 2 color combinations, knowing full well that the smaller one wouldn't fit, and expecting that neither one would look decent on me.

But I was wrong. Not about the smaller one fitting. It didn't.

But the other one did. See it up there? I look exactly like that in it. Really!

OK, not exactly. (Her hair is longer.) But I don't look half bad. The tummy pooch is hidden, it's not too high on the legs, the color is (for once) not black, the pattern is very cheerful without making me feel like I should be waiting tables at Cheezburger in Paradise, and it keeps the girls in place without smooshing them much. I actually like it. AND the matching capri pants were on sale for 10 bucks.

How can you beat that?