Jamaica Me Crazy

I loooooved Jamaica. Although my skin did not. Besides getting burned on day three, I actually developed an allergy to the sunscreen on day two… so I was both burned and covered in a rash. It was sexy. And then I was attacked by mosquitoes on day four. I’m surprised they didn’t quarantine me. Despite all that, we had an excellent time sitting on the beach and eating and drinking ourselves silly.

Though it often involved The Funasaurus in his swim trunks perfecting his tan with his olive skin, and me keeping to the shadows in my allergy-inducing SPF 80+ and get-ups like this:



Unibomer Enjoys a Leisurely Breakfast on the Balcony

Whatever, it was still great. Though the hardest part was seeing the desperate poverty surrounding our nice resort. There were tin shacks just on the other side of the barbed wire enclosing our beach. That was a little hard to see, as we surrounded ourselves with all this excess. But we bought some trinket-y souvenirs, and donated to a local school charity on the casino night, so we assuaged our over-privileged guilt enough to continue to glug Jamaican Smiles non-stop. (I’m not sure about the accuracy of that recipe, seems to me there was something creamy in it, too, like coconut milk, but it’s close enough.)

Another bright part were the goats. There are loads of goats in Jamaica! And most of them are running around freely along the highway, so when The Funasaurus turned to me in all seriousness and said, “Baby, this may be the perfect opportunity to rustle us some goats,” he had to hold me back from jumping off the bus and moving in permanently to the next house we saw. I was thisclose, people.

We were happy to come back to Sugar and Tatum though, who I missed terribly. Sugar missed us so much that she didn’t even do her usual I-am-going-to-punish-you-for-leaving-by-standing-right-next-to-you-but-ignore-you routine and just meowed these ecstatic little mews that broke my heart. She’s been a permanent fixture on my lap ever since.

Tatum’s basically been, like, “You’ll give me as many mice as The Funasaurus’ mom did, right? Right?” And that’s that.

Otherwise, though, coming back to Colorado was anticlimactic. We had to scrape snow off of our stupid car at the airport. As we stood there shivering like jackasses in our flip-flops and sunburns. We attempted to BBQ just a little yesterday, and the whole place clouded over like a sad little gloomy winter day in Northern England.

So I dealt with it by drinking a lot of Red Stripe and looked obsessively at my pictures on the computer with Sugar on my lap. And planning our return trip. No problem, mon, only situations!