What's saving my life right now

I'm linking up again today with Modern Mrs. Darcy to share what's saving my life at this mid-point of winter.


My lifeline of happy right now isn't particularly reproducible, or one that makes any of my friends sympathetic, but it is honest.


Pictures of St. Lucia.

Pigeon Island in the background, which is neither a pigeon nor an island.  It was an island, until they dumped a bunch of fill and connected it to the mainland, so now it's a peninsula, called Pigeon Island.

Breakfast alfresco.

I can't get enough.

Hiking up Pigeon Island.

Fort Rodney, at the top of one of the two peaks of the [former] island; built by the British to ward off the French.

Our fifteenth-anniversary trip was quite possibly the best vacation I've ever had.

The other hill--Signal Peak (so named for its use by the US during WWII).  Also, the faint outline of Martinique in the background on the left.

Our resort, occupying the artificial causeway connecting Pigeon Island and St. Lucia; and Rodney Bay; from Fort Rodney.

It was heartbreaking to leave.  And, although I have sighed and repined enough that Jason has threatened me ("If you're going to be this depressed, I'm never taking you anywhere again!"), when I look out at a bleak frozen landscape, in my mind I see lush hibiscus and crystal turquoise water.

I later overheard someone at the resort asking someone else how long it takes to hike up Pigeon Island.  The man said, "Well, you go up there, and then you take about a hundred selfies, and then you climb the other peak...."  In other words, you're gonna spend much longer than the actual walking part.

Actual hiking time:  23 minutes.
Time spent taking selfies:  58 minutes.
Total time investment for present and future happiness:  priceless.

Rodney Bay, which we paddled clear across in a kayak on our first day.

I'm doing my best to cruise on the island-vibe momentum, channelling the utter relaxation I felt for a solid week.

Top of Signal Peak.

Looking back at Fort Rodney from the higher Signal Peak.

I love a pretty picture, and getting to flick through dozens of them that are connected in my mind to happy feelings and warm breezes and tons of fun..... it's saving my life this winter.

While at the top, we met a man from London who struck up a conversation, rendered delightful not only because of his friendliness, but also, obvs, because of his British accent.  Noting Jason's NYC shirt, he asked where we were from, which led to a discussion of the US as a tourist destination.  He had been to several American cities but expressed a desire to return for more sightseeing, at which we enthusiastically encouraged him... until we remembered that our federal government was at that moment technically shuttered, led by a head of state who is--ahem--not quite in the posture of unfurling the welcome mat for our foreign friends.  We faltered and then mumbled, "well, maybe in a few years..."  He very generously said, "We all have our lit'l problems, don't we?", citing the Brexit chaos, which I thought very kind, since from my perspective that seems much less embarrassing.  

I also had to ask Mr. London why he chose to come all the way to the Caribbean, when isn't the Mediterranean warm and lovely?  In explaining that the winter weather there is reasonable but not as warm as St. Lucia, he told us that this time of year it's "in the mid-twenties."  Jason and I both fell silent.  I realized right away he was talking Celsius and was mentally scrambling to do the math before he noticed our American ignorance.  Not fast enough--we had to admit we didn't know what that meant, but his apology and interpretation were most friendly, and so charmingly British-accented.

On the way back down the mountain, we met a young woman from Trinidad, who commended a visit to her country to us.  Such enjoyable interactions with people of various nationalities.

Another day in paradise

After a long day of traveling and then a full day of playing, we slept in on Tuesday.  I patiently shot all these pictures from our balcony while Jason finished his snooze.

Do St. Lucians even know what January is?

When I could be patient no more, we emerged around 11am in search of breakfast, which we found at the crêperie.  Although it had technically switched over to lunch, we still got our very tasty crêpes champignons.


After breakfast/lunch/brunch, we swam out and lounged in one of the circle floaties--big yellow rings holding up mesh nets (rather like a trampoline, but not bouncy) anchored out in the water.

Circle floaties visible in the background.

After sufficient lazing around, we visited the aqua center and made reservations for two snorkel trips later in the week, having come too late to reserve a spot for that day's tour.


No matter though; we plunged back in from the beach and snorkeled around the swimming area on our own.  We saw another eel, whole schools of ghosty-white fish, and an anemone straight out of Finding Nemo. 


In the early afternoon we went back to haunt the aqua center, so we could jump on the tour if someone didn't show up.  We met another couple there who had the same idea just before us ("I figure someone here has got to be hungover," as he sensibly said).  We chatted with them while we waited, and I was amused at their surprise that I readily identified their Canadian nationality by their accent. 


In the end, Mr. and Mrs. Canada got into the tour group and we didn't, so Jason decided to rent a jet ski for us.  It was at this moment that I realized that I had left my phone in the hot sun, like a complete idiot. 


I carried the wounded phone back to our room to cool off and have its best chance at recovery while berating my own stupidity.  Jason promised he still loved me and offered to let me drive the jet ski.


Do you know how fast those things go???

He was completely confident in my driving.

We crossed the bay much faster than by paddling, and visited the next bay over, as well as checking out a rock sticking out of the water we could see from a distance.

He eventually gained some courage.

After turning in our jet ski, it was more snorkeling at the beach before a late lunch at The Mariner--a Caesar salad with fresh snapper for me, delicious.  Then we moved to the pool and worked down the drink menu for a while.  We made some inquiries of a few people who were drinking out of coconuts, but never did crack the mystery of how to get them.  

By early evening, we found a smaller, deserted hot tub where we goofed off for a while before walking to the end of the pier to watch the sunset.

After the sun sank, we sat on a couch on the pier and watched the sky change from fiery to dark, and then we headed off to get ready for dinner at ye Olde London Pub.  I had the satisfyingly British-sounding bangers and mash (sausage and mashed potatoes), and one or more "signature cocktails."


Needing to redeem my terrible showing at billiards the night before, we replayed...and I was as unskilled as I ever am.  I did happen to make one incredibly lucky, beautiful shot, just as some men were walking past, who exclaimed at my prodigious skill and hoped that Jason wasn't playing me for money.  I let them marvel in their misjudgment all the way out of the hall before taking my next shot.


A warm, breezy walk on the beach, and another day in tropical paradise came to a blissful end.

St. Lucia

While our kids were at home apparently doing this:

We woke up to this:

We immediately went outside to see the resort, having only seen it in the dark so far.

It did not disappoint.

Wow.

We found the buffet breakfast where I had delicious French toast and tried the sugar cane--which does not taste as good as it sounds.  It sounds like a stick of candy; it tastes more like a stick... like from a tree.

After breakfast we jumped in a kayak and set out to paddle what turned out, in our enthusiasm, to be all of Rodney Bay.

All pictures are of the trip out, since on the return paddle we were too busy panting and wondering if we were going to spend our whole week lost at sea, and how it was that the bay was so much bigger on the way back than on the way out.

We probably paddled so far, in part, because we couldn't stop marveling at how clear and turquoise the water was.

We did eventually make it back to terra firma, and then grabbed our new snorkel masks that Jason bought specially for the trip, and plunged into the water from the beach. 

We saw all kinds of fish, including an eel, little green guys that fed in the underwater forest of seaweed, and long pokey ones that we later learned are called trumpetfish.  We also saw these cool little hedgehog-looking things that I wisely decided at the last second not to touch.

We ate lunch at 2pm (gasp! that's how I knew we were really on vacation) at the Jerk Shack, after which we snoozed for a while in beach chairs and then played on some swings in the shallow water at the beach.

Getting on toward evening, we ended up in the giant hot tub, where we met another couple, thereafter known to us as Brian and Becky Hot Tub.  In the course of the conversation, they not only told us about several good drinks to order, but warned us that we needed to set up all our dinner reservations for the week.  

Armed with this essential information, we headed off to shower and then managed to get into Bombay, the 5-star Indian restaurant.  It was fantastic.  We may have gotten in because it was "Barbecue Beach Party" night, which we mostly skipped, but wandered back after dinner in time to see the super cool steel drum band.

We left when the dance show started to go sit by the fire pit at the clubhouse, and then to play billiards in the large hall on the way to our room.  I managed to pull off a move never seen before, in which I chipped the ball over the edge, sending it crashing and bouncing and echoing along the hall--I caught up with it just before it went down the stairs.  

I did not win the billiards game.  

We went to bed happily satisfied with a day of kayaking, snorkeling, eating, drinking, playing; surf, sand, and fun.

In the bleak midwinter

It's that time of year.

It's cold and bleak.  The holidays are over, along with our excuse for comfort-eating everything in sight.  School is dragging on.  We're a little stir-crazy and really pasty and the flu's going around.

Winter.

Buck, our little ray of furry black sunshine, good-naturedly submitting to being measured for Caleb's math lesson.

Awwww...who's a sweet bunny?  Who's so fuzzy and soft and sweet, yes he is?

I too succumbed, not to the flu, but to some nameless yuck that wiped me out and had me lolling in bed much of our first week back to school.  Praise God, our kids are old enough now not only to not demand basic care, but to actually provide it for me when I don't feel good.  It went on long enough that Jeddy made me this:

And then, the crowning moment when all the blood, sweat, and tears of bearing children paid off:

They made [from scratch!] cheesy fries for dinner and brought them to me in bed.  And they were soooo good.  The Last Resort Resort doesn't motivate me to get better soon.


I did, however, get better enough to celebrate Halfway Day 2019:

Grandma and Grandpa are always the best for oohs and aahs and mid-year encouragement.  💜


Now, there's a lot to be said for persevering faithfulness in your day job all winter, enjoying the fruits of your growing kids' life skills, and showing off their accomplishments. 


But there's also something to be said for throwing routine to the wind and taking a blowout romantic vacation to celebrate your fifteenth anniversary!


When the weather at home is this:

It's time to get on one of these:

And escape to the Caribbean!!

Buckled in our seats to contain on-our-way-to-the-Caribbean excitement

Our tenth anniversary was marked by little more than a nifty cake (see: toddler in the 4th picture), but we went all-out for this one.


We drove to the airport in light snow, but the getaway had begun the minute Jason started his beach playlist in the car.  We arrived safely and stayed the night in a beautiful hotel, since we had a very early morning flight the next day.  We had left early to beat the worst of the weather, so 4:00 found us opening up happy hour in the hotel bar.  After an appetizer and a couple of drinks, Jason got a text that our flight was cancelled. 


Doh.


Jason figured out how to rebook on a later flight and we went to bed with the consolation prize of sleeping in in the morning.  Once we awoke, we realized we really might want more time to navigate the Miami airport during our layover, so Jason rebooked again on a mid-morning flight and we leapt out of bed to catch a shuttle. 


I boarded the plane with my podcasts lined up, my fuzzy blanket, and a Cobb salad purchased at the airport.  After much de-icing, we were on our way out of the snowstorm and headed south. 


Approaching Miami was a huge improvement in weather.

As it turned out, our next gate was practically right next to the one where we arrived, so we had plenty of time to stroll around the airport.  We even sat down in a TGI Fridays and had potato skins and a cocktail.


With such a late flight to St. Lucia, our plane was quite empty, so we had our choice of seats--we upgraded to a row with outlets, which you normally pay extra for, ooh la la. 


We took off at sunset.

I was fidgety on the flight.  I was tired of podcasts.  I watched a little bit of Smallfoot, which was the in-flight movie, but I mostly craned my neck at the window and tried to identify the various groups of lights down below in the dark that indicated passing Caribbean islands.

We landed at 9:45, well after dark, unable to see anything of the island we were coming onto.  There was no jetway, so we stepped out of the airplane directly into open air.  

The air!  We didn't get over it all week.  It was warm, and gentle, and smelled of the ocean.

After struggling through customs (what do all those questions on the forms mean?) and claiming our baggage, we were escorted to the dedicated Sandals lounge, where I promptly used the bathroom and then laid myself out on a couch, inwardly groaning at the thought that there was still a 2-hour shuttle ride to the resort.

Our shuttle--actually a car--picked us up shortly, and we rode (on the left side!) all the way up the island, and it was absolutely delightful.  The windows were down, the breeze was warm, and what little we could see of the towns we passed was new and fascinating.

We got in to Sandals at 11:30, rather bewildered and rumpled.  We signed something saying who knows what, and they brought us to our home away from home, room 5209.  And before we could do more than exclaim that we were finally there, they had sent up a cheese and fruit platter.  We took it onto the balcony, along with a bottle of wine we found in the mini fridge, and exhaled long and deep, marveling and wondering that we were set up in tropical paradise with an entire week stretched out before us.

How to know your New Year's resolutions are DOA

January 9:


Me:  *starts to order at IHOP*

Waitress:  It would be cheaper if you ordered all-you-can-eat pancakes.

Me:  *shrugs*  Ok.


February 5 is Chinese New Year.  AKA second-chance, I'm-seriously-serious-this-time New Year.


Which gives me...3½ weeks to keep eating all-you-can-eat pancakes.