Singer Island, FL

Okay, you crazy kids, I'm trying my darndest to get caught up here, but I'm feeling a little blocked and less creative than normal. Hence the title. Oh, also, I'm trying to multi-task by blogging and watching DVRed episodes of last week's premieres. So, um, apologies if my writing is accidentally interrupted by an order for a head CT and IV push or commentary about how surprisingly well spoken I find Heidi Montag.

(Side note: I LOVE television. (It's a problem.) And I LOVE premiere season because it's got that "back to school" feeling of reunion, after having been away from all your friends for the summer. So, Meredith, Addison, Jeff Probst, Barney, Cat, Jim and Pam...welcome back. Missed ya.)

Ahem.

Our vacation was incredibly wonderful. I hesitate to mention this, given my readership, but Florida isn't my favorite state. Humidity and I (okay, my hair) don't exactly get along. But! When you are a Starwood Preferred Member, you go where you can redeem points. They upgraded us to a ridiculous 2-bedroom suite, complete with granite/stainless kitchen, washer/dryer, two bathrooms with fancy showers and tub, living room and a balcony. Seriously, I could have invited my cousin, her husband, and her three (almost four) kids, and we would have had plenty of room.

We kept our activities to a minimum, but did venture outside The Resort at Singer Island for a day of scootering. Yyyyeah. It's been a long time since I thought, "You know, this is actually really dangerous and I might die." I had that thought more than once that day. In fact, I kept thinking of The Munchkin, and that dangerous activities should really be outlawed for parents. Turned out, though, I was my own biggest hazard. The practice rounds in the parking lot were actually a lot harder than out on the open road. Once my confidence was restored (about 20 minutes after leaving the lot), I felt much better.

During that adventure, we "shopped" on Worth Avenue (think Rodeo Drive). Picture us parking our little rent-a-scooters next to BMWs and Porsches, and heading into these fancy-schmancy shops dressed in our shorts and sandals. I felt pretty uncomfortably out of place. (Side note: What's with the plethora white pants in the middle of September? Does the "Don't Wear White after Labor Day" rule not apply to Floridians? Just wondering. I mean, it was 90 degrees there, but still--EVERY WOMAN I saw on that street was in white pants!)

We also made it into the town of West Palm for an evening of Mexican food and street music, and a random stop for gelato. But beyond that, we baked in the sun, swam, rode the waterslide in the pool, and relaxed. We both made it through two books and several magazines, which definitely is a rarity in our lives, these days. And, if I may say so, the best part of the week was that we fell a little more in love. Okay, a lot. Vacations without kids are good for marriages. :o)

Meanwhile, in MI, the Munch (and Oliver) was hangin' with his Mimi, Papa, and Auntie Omi, having a grand old time! Evidently I should give up hope for him becoming a world-renowned musician, since he'll be too busy with his Olympic swimming career. Muchas gracias (again) to the three of you for taking such good care of our babies.


Glad to be back. Much to do. Off to do it.
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