Ladies, I’m hanging out the girls’ equivalent
of a gone-fishin’ sign on this blog.
When you read this, the sister-in-law and I will be at the beach. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to be specific.
Palms trees, tropical breezes, sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Adios winter.
I’ve got the swimsuit packed, the pareo, the hat, the sandals, the sunscreen. Also, I’m throwing in a super-expensive bottle of La Mer Body lotion I picked up at the Duty Free Shops at SFO on the last trip to Mexico and three bottles of Jo Malone scent— my own personal combo— Pomegranate Noir, Amber Lavender, and #154. Okay, so I do have a couple of nice outfits for dining at Trio and Café des Artistes, and a couple of Capri pants and tee-shirts for the more serious shopping expeditions. But mostly, I intend to slather myself with various beauty products, soak up the sun and read the equivalent of literary boxes of bon-bons.
To complete the total package, I’ve downloaded a Romance novel onto the old i pad—Jude Deveraux, whom I’ve never read. But hey, this one— The Scent of Jasmine— is set in Charleston and Florida and involves a handsome Scottish outlaw. Perfect. Just what I need for lying in a chaise lounge with one of those little drinky-thingys with the tiny paper umbrellas by my side. I’ll let you know what I think of it when I get back.
Don’t feel TOO sorry for us!