Hi friends–sorry for the lack of posts for the past few days. You’ll have to forgive me, as this is where I was:
[View of Palm Trees & Ocean: mine, Photo: doctored with Instagram, Circle of People Frolicking In Pool: 100% Unstaged. I die]
We left the resort exactly one time (if walks down the beach don’t count), all in all providing for the best and most relaxing mini-vacation a girl could ask for. I am back, tanner, fatter, and ever the more curious as to why human beings ever settled in areas which boast an average temperature of under 70 degrees. Surely there’s enough land around the Equator to just move everything ever down there, and perhaps come up North for skiing and Christmas, no?
Alas, no. Idiots.
Some highlights from an ever-too-brief Mexican vacation:
[Travel essentials: Passport, Pouch, Nook (I don’t want to talk about it, e-reader fans. I still hate the idea of the Nook. And the Kindle. And anything that kills the book. But a device that fits in my pocket and allows me to read all three 50 Shades of Grey “novels” in 4 days is all right with me. No, 50 Shades Of Grey fans, I don’t want to talk about that either, except for to say, Holy Mother Of God My Life Is Changed Forever]
[Dinner with my favorite cousin and travel companion]
[Poolside with New York Mag, a fedora, and of course, Fifty]
[Some casual snacks: Slow-baked salmon with citrus viniagrette]
[Some casual desserts: keep ’em coming]
[Sunburnt and satiated on our last evening]
Coming back to New York after a tropical vacation always confuses me–here I’ve gone, from miles and miles of spotless beach and all-you-can-eat splendor, to an apartment that lacks oceanside view, rain shower, and balcony for siesta time with my 10th frozen lemonade of the afternoon. What kind of sick sadist (hello again, Fifty) am I that I actually willingly chose to make this place my home?
It’s something I fume about for an hour, or a day, or even a week, until the next time I am in the back of a taxi at night, or walking through the Village with my iPod headphones and an iced coffee, or just sitting on a park bench or subway seat qatching someone do something particularly nutty in public (recently, a young woman brushing with an electric toothbrush on the 6 train)…and I sigh deeply and wonder how or why I ever thought about leaving.
Coming up this week: A Mother’s Day Gift Guide, Packing Essentials, and Met Ball Hit & Misses.
Til then: A great article about living in New York, and…we’ll always have Mexico.