I am on my way home from Marco Island, Florida and sitting in the Alaska Airlines Boardroom in the Seattle Airport. We’ve all (ma, pa, hubby, kid) been up since 3:30am and I am punchy to say the least. The free bloody maries are helping.
Florida is a super weird and unique state. Tourists and retirees. Tan people with ornate belly button piercings and golf. Gators and Montana houseplants growing in the sidewalk cracks. We had a great time on the beach. That’s what you do in Florida. Everything revolves around the gorgeous beach. I haven’t ever taken a vaca like that–no agenda other than hanging out. My parents treated us to the trip. It was relaxing and fab.
We lounged on the beach. And by the pool. And in our beautiful hotel rooms with balconies and ocean views. My mom and I collected shells; the shells were abundant and incredible. I love the ocean. We ate well and cocktail hour was acceptable at any time of the day. I got a Balinese massage. Bug dipped her feet in the salty water of the Gulf of Mexico for the first time. The first day blessed me with a super sexy, Florida-shaped sunburn on the left side of my left thigh and a sort of hand print shape on my foot and another on my arm. I let Andy apply the sunblock from then on.
I liked being all salty and sun-kissed, all in love with my hilarious family and martini-buzzed with tiny sand particles between the sheets of our king-sized bed after a day of beach bliss. And the sunsets. Swoon.
