I came home Thursday night in a horrible mood. I was mad that I had to work on Friday, which, I know, poor me that I have to work more than three days a week. But it was the start to a 3-day weekend and I enjoy having Fridays off. So Wes brought home the makings for mimosas to have this weekend and my mood changed dramatically just thinking about having three days with no plans except to relax.
By Friday afternoon, though, the bad mood had returned when I realized that my Friday work day was creeping up to 9 hours, which means 12-hour day away from my home. (Commuting really sucks and I’m constantly weighing the pros and cons and trying to figure out a way to work closer to home without the huge pay cut and/or more hours that will come along with it.) But then somewhere around 4:30, when my boss came back to the office with strawberry smoothies for us because (did I forget to mention this?) the chillers in our building were getting replaced which meant that there was air conditioning all day. And it was hot. But the smoothie helped and we powered through the work that needed to be done and Wes promised pizza for dinner (we our eating our way through every shit food imaginable before we start P90x tomorrow and though I’m not sure we planned it this way, it’s working as I can’t think about fast/bad food food without feeling a little queasy) and maybe some beer and even though our communication was on where we should meet once I got off the bus, I was in a pretty good mood. We had beer and pizza and watched Stand By Me because my poor husband had never seen it before and that’s not right. (Though in another couple of years I’m sure he’ll deny ever having said he’s never seen it and tell me I’m crazy for thinking such a thing because of course he’d seen the movie prior to our watching it that one time in Hawaii *cough*The Sandlotcough*.)
Saturday morning we had planned a beach day because even though we live on an island with beautiful beaches, we rarely get out there and enjoy them. Wes let me sleep in, which basically means that he gets up with Tsunami and they fall asleep downstairs while I lay in bed and read facebook and scroll through Pinterest and check my email and then maybe read or write until I’m ready to go downstairs, basically a win-win for all involved. And then I found this awesome thing and I was in an even better mood than before and it became my motto for the day. We had some delicious mimosas and discovered that the best way to mix them is champagne first and then orange juice.
After breakfast we got ready for the beach, where we stayed for a glorious three hours and barely any part of us got burned. My back had some issues because I put my own sunscreen on, which meant that I missed a few spots. I was hoping that it was Wes’ fault because I have, in the past, missed parts of his back and he doesn’t let me forget it (and then when I put too much on to make sure I cover every inch of his back he mocks me, he’s like the goldilocks of back sunscreen) and I was hoping that I would have something to counter him when he brought it up. But then I remembered that the fault was mine. Though it’s partially his fault for not realizing that if I can barely put sunscreen on another person’s back, how am I to get ever spot on my own? He’s not buying that argument, though.
At the beach the waves were calm and the rock jumping was open again. A couple of years ago we were visiting a friends cabin (Brette, your brother may remember this story) and I totally embarrassed myself by not being able to jump off the damn rocks in a timely manner. I kept starting and stopping and yes, there was one time when I nearly skidded down the cliff on the rocks into the water. (And all of this is weird because I grew up in Idaho and I jumped off rope swings and cliffs and didn’t give a fuck.) I did finally jump and it was probably the least elegant thing I’ve ever done. That was nearly 4 years ago and I still get teased about it any time there’s a cliff to jump off of. I jumped off one a couple of months ago but it was small. The rocks at this beach were higher and when I got up there it was about to be a repeat of Blakely island until two little girls, maybe 12 years old, walked up and I let them go ahead of me. They jumped together and when the resurfaced they shouted up to me, “Come on! You can do it!” and I had no choice but to jump in after them. I screamed and my feet touched the bottom (it’s close to shore, so not really as deep as it sounds) and my heart was pounding and when I finally got to shore I did it all over again with Annie, who was taking pictures while the rest of us jumped (also because she failed to get a picture of me on my first jump).
After the beach we met up with two other couples to see The Hangover Part II because it looked funny. And yes, it’s the same movie as before, but whatever. It was funny. Also, the hotel in the movie (not the one with the monkey but the nice one at the end) is where we stayed on our honeymoon in August. It was kind of neat seeing views and temples on screen that we’d actually seen in person. (Dad, go see the movie and in just about every Bangkok scene imagine me saying, “I’ve been there!”)
Now it’s Sunday and we still have another day of the weekend in front of us. Even though that’s usually how my schedule goes, it’s much nicer when I get to share it with Wes.