Aruba for the faint of heart

Pretty much anything we’ve done here this week has been preceded by a mimosa and followed up by the favorite local cocktail, the Aruba Ariba, which is a mixture of rum, vodka, a bunch of liquors and a couple drops of pineapple juice, a deadly combo which is hugely popular and probably explains the proliferation of piano bars and karaoke on this island. The drink even comes in a magical glass that draws tourists in like bugs to a zapper.

So today, I’m in full on detox mode, and kidding myself that I can actually work by a pool. Pretty much a third of everyone I know has already told me my Facebook posts make them want to punch me full in the face, just so you know I’m not expecting any sympathy.

I’ll live.

Yesterday we snorkeled just off Palm Beach. The winds were fairly normal for an Aruban afternoon, which means strong enough to make you forget the heat (as well as – hopefully – how many Aruba Aribas you may have had the night before), which also means the water was pretty choppy. I remembered belatedly that putting my face in the water with or without a mask makes me hyperventilate a little bit, but when they asked if anyone was new to snorkeling, I did my regular thing, and acted like I was all kinds of a snorkeling ninja.

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A little excursion to One Happy Island

As some of you know, traveling has recently become a bigger part of my job. As things like this go, an opportunity for a site review came up with very little notice, and at a crappy time for bringing the rest of the family.

My client, also a very busy professional and a mom, sensed a little guilt.

“You go,” she told me. “Just you. It’ll be good for your soul.”

I don’t know. My soul is actually doing just fine. Winter doesn’t depress me. I love not sweating. And all my favorite clothes are best worn in layers. Besides which, with me being my normal, procrastinating self, I have yet to start in on the holiday prep.

I’m serious. And here we are at T-minus two weeks to Christmas or something crazy like that.

But I’m not stupid. Someone says “we need you in Aruba,” and I’m halfway to the airport before you can blink.

I’m just a giver like that.

So, in a teensy nutshell, that’s how things like this happen.


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