I am back among the living, which is to say the holidays are over and I am back from vacation. I bet you didn't even know I was on vacation, did you? That was intentional. I didn't tell the internets in case they decided to rob us while we were gone. Not that you would rob us, just the internets in general.
I had all kind of posts planned for Christmas and New Year's and throughout my vacation, but I suck, thus NO POSTS.
So many things happened on our trip I could write a thousand posts about them, but that sounds like a lot of work, so here are some highlights.
1. We went to New York City. I have a love affair with that city that borders on obscene. As soon as we step off the plane the husband and I breathe a collective sigh as if to say, "we are home."
2. Every year the husband and I go somewhere cold after Christmas because we live in a place where it never gets cold. I LOVE the cold. My skin? Does not. You've heard of heat rash, right? Well apparently I get cold rash. My arms, my legs, my sides, my back, my stomach, other places... red, bumpy, itchy. O. M. G. the itching. Every night when we got back to our room I would rip off my 42 to layers of clothes and start scratching. It was exactly as sexy as it sounds.
Then I'd be all, "husband, rub some ointment on me."
And he'd be, "no, you're disgusting."
Not a true story. The husband didn't say I was disgusting and there was no ointment. But there was itching. Lots of it.
Also, we all agree that the words "rash" and "ointment" are the two sexiest words in the English language, yes? Especially when used together.
3. It rained one night when we were there. This was the night we had tickets to a Broadway show. Sister Act. We decided to take a cab because a.) it was raining; b.) it was cold and my outfit did not allow for 42 layers of long underwear; but mainly because c.) I was wearing my new knee-high, high-heeled boots and did not want to get them wet.
We left our hotel a little later than planned because someone *cough* me had to have her hair just right. Because when people spend half their life savings to attend a Broadway show and sit in the dark to watch said show, they are going to be looking at my hair and deciding whether it has the right amount of volume. Obviously.
I don't know if you've ever been to NYC, but it is faster to crawl than drive, especially on 5th avenue, 6th avenue, Madison avenue, Broadway, or anywhere in the general vicinity. Especially if it's a few days after Christmas and a few days before New Years. Especially if it's raining.
We hopped in a cab anyway. Honestly, we had no other option. We had thirty minutes to go 1.8 miles. Our show started at 7:00 p.m. At 6:47 I start to say we're not going to make it. The husband tells me to believe. He asks the cabby if he thinks we'll be there by 7:00. He says, "sure!" and floors it through the intersection. And another one. And another. And I saw my life flash before my eyes at least seven times.
We come to a stop and the cabby tells us it'd be faster to walk. We only have two blocks to go.
Apparently "two" blocks means "a bajillion" blocks. At least that's what it felt like. It was 6:57. There was no time to walk. We had to RUN!
Did I mention I was wearing knee-high high-heeled boots? Did I mention we were in New York City where the sidewalks are insanely crowded? Did I mention we had to run?
I tucked my hair ( MY HAIR!) under my hat and the husband and I took off.
Allow me to take a moment to apologize to anyone who is currently missing an eye due to the umbrella I wielded above my head as I tore through the crowd. You should know we got to the show on time and it was awesome, so, totally worth it, right?
My legs were shaking when we reached the theater doors and the ticket taker looked at me as though I was a mental person about to pass out, which honestly wasn't far from the truth. We go to the bar and I order a water, and a vanilla vodka and coke. "Anything else?" the bartender asks. "Some oxygen," I say. He was not amused.
I leave the husband to wait and pay for the drinks and I sit on a bench and try to collect myself. Which consists of panting and coughing and fixing my hair, and putting my heads between my legs, and panting, and bundling our umbrellas and gasping for air and panting some more. Right in front of everyone as they pile into the theater.
"Why yes I am part of the show. You paid extra for this. Congratulations."
Our seats are the second row from the top. We must climb stairs. SO MANY STAIRS. I huff and puff my way to the top, collapse in my seat and feel very sorry for the guy next to me.
I tell the husband it's going to take me until the second act to recover and he says, "As long as you recover by the 'Sister Act'."
Hahahahaha. That man is so funny.
I whisper to the husband that something is wrong with my throat. I suspect that I have swallowed a bee and am being stung repeatedly, but I don't tell him that because sometimes it's good to keep the crazy to yourself.
To wrap things up, my throat stopped being weird, the show was awesome, and thirty minutes before it was over I had to pee. Not like, "I kinda have to pee and maybe I should go soon," but "OMG I HAVE TO PEE RIGHT NOW WHY WON'T THEY STOP SINGING KILL HER! KILL DOLORES AND THE NUNS AND GET THIS SHOW OVER WITH!"
Lots of other things happened on our trip, but I'll end this here cuz I know you'll want to re-read this two or twenty times, meditate on it and try to truly comprehend its awesomeness.
I also realize I've switched between present and past tense a bajillion times like a person who don't know no grammar and I feel seven kinds of awful about it, but the New Year is all about making excuses so allow me to say I am currently editing my novel, which was originally written in past tense, but as I add scenes and edit, I'm writing in present tense, because honestly I think it will make the story so much better but I'm not totally sure and it makes me feel all floopy.*
*A bajillion pieces of bacon to the person who can tell me who said that.