Is It Better In the Bahamas?...the final chapter.

Alas, the time had come. Curiosity got the best of them and the lovely not so young couple and mom headed back to town to take the famed "Water Ferry" to Paradise Island. They wanted to look at the Atlantis hotel complex. After all, that most famous and sought after Canadian, Justin Bieber had performed there. Once on the dock, they were immediately accosted by a gentleman who said "Ferry to Paradise Island"? "Woohoo", said Ingrid's strange mom, "Yes, please". She went to the ticket wicket and purchased 3 return tickets. After being directed to a rather rickety boat, they sat.....and sat.....and sat. "I see fish," said Phil, while briefly enjoying the view into the water.
"It's getting hot," said Ingrid while wondering how long they'd have to wait.

"Boohoo," said Ingrid's strange mom, noting that there were only 8 people on the boat. "I have a feeling we have to wait until he recruits a boatload before we can leave." After only half an hour, they were on their way. They saw many lovely things...a cruise ship, a bridge, a nudist yoga camp and lots more fish. "I want to eat them," said Phil. "I love fish."

As they got near Paradise Island, they saw it! Atlantis. "Woohoo, I love it," said Ingrid's strange mom.
After a pole vault out of the ferry and a tour of the Atlantis hotel, it was determined by all that this structure was too huge, too ostentatious, too expensive and too crowded for their liking and they headed back to the familiarity of their own modest resort. (There's a long story involving a taxi and further water ferry adventures here but author is getting tired of continuing this blog).

The very next day, the mom, who had a fear of flying had several more of her favourite kamikaze drinks, left the lovely not so young couple on the beach for another day of vacation and headed for the exciting Nassau airport and home. (Note the wealth of activities below in aforementioned airport.)

Finally......THE END!

Is It Better in the Bahamas...with mom? Part Four

When Phil returned from taking pictures of the ships, the shore and the shells, and found Ingrid and mom severely dehydrated, "super nurse" rushed into action. A quick trip into the "Drinks and Cigars R Us" store did the trick. He gave Ingrid water and mom a Kalik (beer of the Bahamas), cap removed, brown paper wrapper concealed, ready for consumption. "Woohoo", said Ingrid's strange mother, "I love it." The threesome finished their drinks then took the bus back to the hotel where they attempted to cross the street. It was the oddest thing. The traffic, such as it was, always appeared to be on the wrong side of the road. Soon, everyone learned to look the wrong way before crossing. Phil found this so entertaining, that he photographed it.

Once back at the resort, everyone sat on the lovely beach enoying the sun, the activities, the drinks and the scenery. Some sceneries were enjoyed more than others, especially by mom, who excitedly took photos of her legs (which were now returned to human form), the not so young couple, and a variety of other interesting sights. "Woohoo, I love it!" said Ingrid's strange mom.
Later that same day, the not so young couple and mom dressed up and went out for dinner at Martino's. Ingrid's strange mother took some artistic photos. "Whoohoo," she said."I love it." Then after an adventurous day everyone made plans for the next day's adventure. They were going to Paradise...or were they? Watch for the finale..."Is It Better In the Bahamas...when mom leaves?"

Is It Better In The Bahamas...with mom? Part Three

After dinner, there was a show with a fire dancer and a limber limbo man. "Woohoo", said Ingrid's strange mother when the man tore off his shirt and pants, lit his pole on fire and edged underneath the bar toward the audience. Then, as if that wasn't exciting enough, at the end of the show there was a Junkanoo parade. It was very loud and boisterous much like Caribana. Mom and Phil enjoyed the show while Ingrid caught up on her beauty sleep. Meanwhile, Ingrid's strange mom located a costume of her own. "Woohoo," said Ingrid's strange mother "I love it! I love it!"

Bright and early the next day, with the temperature hovering at 107 F, the lovely, not so young couple asked the mom if she wanted to go into town shopping. "Woohoo," said Ingrid's strange mother. "I love shopping."

So they all hopped onto a mini bus, got stuck to the plastic seat covers which seemed to be the Bahamian version of seat belts and rocked to the reggae music...."yah mon". Once in town, there were many things to see and do. There were watch stores and diamond stores and watch stores and more diamond stores. The straw market was of most interest. Ingrid's strange mother tried on a dress over her clothing in the not so private, non air conditioned outdoor stall. She didn't need a mirror to reject this little little number. "Boohoo," said Ingrid's strange mother. "I don't love it."

Meanwhile, Phil had wandered off to photograph the cruise ships, Ingrid acquired a new boyfriend named Senor Frog and the mom finally found a look that she enjoyed. "Woohoo," said Ingrid's strange mother, "I love it."

Is this the end? Will they all live happily ever after? Has the heat adversely affected all three? Will they soon return to normal and go back to the beach? Could it be that Phil has had enough and tries to dispose of Ingrid's strange mother using this unique, antique and yet high powered weapon? Watch for "Is It Better In The Bahamas...with mom?" Part Four....your burning questions answered. Coming soon.

Is It Better In the Bahamas...with mom? Part Two

Soon, the mother felt thirsty. She accepted the suggestion from a duo of Russian women who recommended a drink called a ***Kamikaze. "Woohoo", said Ingrid's strange mother. "I like this drink, I think I'll have another". For some reason, she got very tired and decided to relax on the not so crowded beach with her Nora Roberts novel and her ancient listening device (see blogs entitled "Who You Calling An Antique?" and "Yes, I'm Old Now"). It was so peaceful. Suddenly, she was rudely awakened by the sounds of the "Black Eyed Peas" and "Flo Rida". This was to become a nightly event as the "Booze Cruise" passed by the resort in an attempt to recruit unsuspecting types for their glass bottom boat rides.

The mother was glad when the rest of the day and the night were over and Ingrid and Phil arrived. Except for a few strange facial ticks, they seemed to have survived their flight relatively unscathed.

That evening, they went to dinner and invited mom. "Woohoo, I'd love to", said Ingrid's strange mother. So they all got dressed and headed for the "Garden of Eden" for their first night's meal.


....to be continued

***Kamikaze is a drink made with equal parts vodka, triple sec and lime juice. Drink appearance on this page is not exactly to scale as our all-inclusive club made them slightly (cough, cough) larger and stronger.

Is It Better In The Bahamas...with mom? Part One

Once, there was a cute, not so young couple named Ingrid and Phil. Despite many warnings about facebook, they did not heed them and were not too selective about who was included on their "friends" list. They added Ingrid's strange mother. When they posted a planned trip to the Bahamas, Ingrid's strange mother said, "Woohoo, I like the Bahamas."

Ingrid innocently replied, "Why don't you come along?"

"Woohoo", said Ingrid's strange mother. "I'd love to."

Mom did not let the lack of tickets for the date in question deter her. When the travel agent suggested a flight a day earlier, the strange mother said, "Woohoo, I'd love to."

So off she flew to the beautiful city of Nassau on the Island of New Providence, the tiny one between the two long ones on the top left of the map.

Except for the airline having placed her in the midst of an infant evacuation flight, with the odour of fresh poop permeating the plane, the flight was uneventful. After 3 hours, they landed. While waiting for her luggage, the strange mother was asked if she wanted to sample some of the island's delicacies, specifically Bacardi. "Woohoo, I'd love to,"she said.

At the resort, the mother was enthralled with the sun, sand, air and water. It was lovely. She immediately went exploring and found many things of interest. There were unusual birds....

....of all kinds. And there was odd native attire.



Not the end. Watch for Part 2

What you talking about?

I talk to myself. This is a skill which I have perfected in my later life. I noticed that I have been participating in this activity more in recent years. Perhaps it's not a skill at all. Maybe it's just a lack of caring what people think anymore. It works well for me. What used to be thoughts in my head are now thoughts for all the world to hear. Not all of my thoughts get out there, but I usually don't regret the ones that do. Sometimes, I mutter and sometimes I just give voice to an idea. I don't think I'm the only offender but then that might be wishful thinking. After all, I wouldn't want to imagine that I'm the only strange person around.

I'm not certain what brings on this sudden need to share my thoughts with the produce in the vegetable aisle of a supermarket, or sing along loudly to the store's Musak, I just do.

Sure there are those jokesters who say that when we talk to ourselves at least someone is listening. Or, you're not crazy as long as you don't answer yourself. I've noted that there are even articles, albeit on the internet that's say it's healthy, another form of mental stimulation. I wonder whether those words of wisdom were written by other self talkers.

This morning, I was wandering outdoors. Since I am currently in Nassau, I went onto the resort grounds to enjoy the scenery, the stillness and the air. It was lovely. Palm trees were wafting, waves were rolling in, the sand was undisturbed except for the footprints of a sandpiper that scurried toward the sea and the water was turquoise. Peaceful. "Exquisite", I heard myself think, then say as I extolled the wonders of this paradise.

Seagulls squawked and hovered, despite the resort's efforts to keep them away with numerous plastic owls. I found myself wondering. "Hey you stupid seagulls, don't you know that you're supposed to be fearful of owls? Hmmm....Caribbean seagulls and owls? Must have been some terrific salesman that conned them into buying those plastic monstrosities." Ooops....I realized I wasn't wondering I was once again speaking aloud.

Perhaps there are just things that we appreciate more as we age. Perhaps we're more observant. Perhaps our life's experiences have taught us to see more, do more, feel more and say more. At any rate, I like it. By using another sense, hearing, we affirm what our thought was. Probably a good way to stick things into our elderly heads that might otherwise disappear. Or maybe, it's just fun.

This is a recording...

"We are experiencing higher than usual call volume...please remain on the line and your call will be answered in sequence". I hate that recording. What they actually mean is, "Please stay on the line indefinitely and we will talk to you whenever we feel like it. " Or possibly, "we couldn't be bothered hiring enough people to deal with your petty problems, so when the individual we did hire, returns from the washroom, he/she might speak with you."

I'm not certain what marketing genius came up with that suggestion for a recorded message but it's getting tiresome. Do they actually think they're fooling anyone? Are we to believe that a company is doing so well and that the employees are so overworked that nobody can get to the phone? Perhaps, if we'd heard it only once or twice. Unfortunately, everyone is using the same lame "higher than usual volume" excuse. Not only that, I've heard that line during all hours of the day and part way into the night. I haven't spoken to a real person during the first 15 minutes of any service type call in the last decade. Sure, I was clever enough to figure out that pressing all those numbers for English or French, for this department or that department for this help or that help can for the most part be overridden by pressing "O" for operator. After all, do any of those options ever provide you with the actual choice you need? Where's the "I just have a quick question and don't want to wait half an hour" option? I think that pressing 1 for this and 2 for that is just a ploy to keep people busy while the one person at the other end of the line is dealing with the "higher than usual call volume".

Today, I contacted one of my favourite companies to inquire about a free preview sports channel advertised during every baseball game. This channel was supposedly available for the rest of the year. After awaiting my "higher than usual call volume" turn and being threatened by "this call may be recorded" I spoke to a gentleman who had some difficulty understanding me. Must have been my heavy Canadian accent! At any rate, after speaking to him for at least ten minutes and trying to explain that I wanted the free preview, he said, " Mrs. Adam, please to hold the line for two minutes so I ask someone." Another 5 minutes later, he returned with the response that I may order the free preview for $8 a month. Huh? "Well, the free service is only available to new customers." I interpret that to mean that "old" customers are no longer needed.

"I do not repeat NOT want to pay $8 for a free preview, so please forget it." I responded.

"Thank you madame. Is there anything else I can help you with today?" he asked.

Drat, I wish I had amassed more questions to save going through all this again, but alas, I had none. "No, thank you, goodbye."

Oh... and in case anyone wonders where my blogs have been of late. I have been experiencing higher than usual activity volume. Please be patient and blogs will appear in sequence.

Don't Eat It If It Starts With "P"

Why is it that cookbooks and diet books are always on the best seller lists? Since 68% of the North American population is overweight this may be a rhetorical question. Nonetheless, I have noted over the years that fad diets of every sort and books about these diets have always been big sellers. Some diets come and go, and some just linger for the next generation to get excited over as if they've discovered something new. There are testimonials and interviews galore, doctors touting their validity and then poof...as quickly as they came, gone! My all time favourite was the cabbage soup diet. This diet contained plenty of nutrition and fibre and could theoretically have worked very well had I been able to gag down more than one day's worth of the soup.

I am hereby announcing the launch of my newly created diet. It's going to be called the "Don't Eat Anything That Starts With The Letter 'P' Diet". I feel much like any creator of a new diet, that I am highly qualified to write a book. Not only do I have a combined degree in Sociology and Psychology, innumerable post grad courses, and certification in fengshui, but I have many years of diet experience. Furthermore, I know that the human body contains 122 or is it 144 bones? We, have 32 or fewer teeth depending on where on the continent we live, and the skin is our largest organ. I have eaten frogs' legs and know that they don't actually taste anything like chicken, therefore I consider myself quite the food expert.

I am hoping that my idea will be published as soon as I figure out a way of turning the following information into an entire book. Lots of pictures might just do the trick. Perhaps I could list the items in alphabetical order, with comments about and photos of each morsel in its natural habitat. My newly created diet promises to transform your body in a matter of decades or you can give me your money back. It is not complicated. Simply, do not consume any of the following items: pancakes, pasta, pop, pizza, pate, pepperoni, pez candies, potatoes, pigtails, pirrhana, pig knuckles or pork hocks, perogies, pomegranates, porridge, possum, popcorn, potstickers, pub fare, puffed rice, pigeons or partridges in pear trees.

Watch for my follow up fashion book to be entitled "Don't Go Out In Public Wearing Anything Starting With the Letter 'P' ."

Shopping or Fishing? It's All About Jeans

Many men do not understand the female version of shopping. Shopping is an art. Shopping is not always about walking into a store, grabbing what you want and dashing back out of the store in record time. Shopping does not necessarily involve purchasing anything. It is instead a relaxing activity which requires strolling, browsing, picking up, touching, smelling, and feeling, trying on, spending time with friends and recognizing bargains. Shopping takes time and skill and shopping is fun. I have in fact, gone on cross border shopping excursions with my friends and we have not purchased a thing. It's all about the experience. One of my greatest pleasures comes from knowing where to find something interesting or unusual for a gift or where to suggest a friend or family member go to find a specific item. Although I don't want to sound sexist, and I know there must be some women who do not enjoy this activity, I still believe that shopping in this way is predominately a female pastime.

Women, specifically me, don't understand the current male version of fishing. I used to love fishing. Fishing was one thing that got me out of bed at sunrise. It allowed me breathe the fresh air while someone else baited my hook. I would cast, pull out a fish, then repeat the process. This activity was performed quickly. Simply amass a few fish and go home. Just as men walk into a store knowing what they want, purchase it and leave, I fished, caught and was done. The fish were cleaned. The fish were cooked and eaten.

More recently, I have observed that fishing has a different look. Fishing consists of purchasing a dozen worms, going out on a boat, catching fish and tossing them back. Catch and release? Pointless I would think, but then, I'm female. Why do this? Why capture, mangle and toss back those slippery little critters? Could it be that men find it relaxing? Could it be that it provides a challenge or some kind of camaraderie? Could it be that they like the experience? Could it be that it gives them some degree of joy, not only knowing where the fish are, but being able to catch the best ones and be able to tell friends and family about "the one that got away"?

Next time men complain about females and their "shopping" we should help them understand the concept by telling them to think of it as female fishing. We like to go out, relax, spend time with friends, get a bit of exercise, know where the sales are and brag about our bargains to friends. Simple.

The Princess, The Pea, and Prince Charming

My husband is a prince. He is. He bought me the bed in which I am currently not sleeping. It's 3 a.m. The hour is irrelevant however, since I know for a fact that it is a more respectable time of morning, noon or night elsewhere in the world.

Tomorrow, is our third anniversary. Soon after we were married, I started whining about our bed. It was lumpy and bumpy and saggy in all the wrong places, much like my body. I ached in the mornings and despite my youth and vitality, my muscles remained sore for a large portion of the day. I complained. I'd let out the occasional moan. For dramatic effect, I made certain that my bones cracked and that I rubbed my neck and shoulders frequently while in his presence. The dog would often follow me around, dragging her tail as if to punctuate my discomfort.

"You're just like the princess and the pea" hubby would comment.

"Yep", I would answer.

He put a board underneath the mattress. It didn't help. Oddly, the bed still bent in places where I didn't. We went out and "test drove" some new mattresses. I determined that the foam ones were my favourite. I looked like someone on one of those t.v. commercials as I lay in the showroom sighing, sprawling and almost asleep enveloped in memory foam. This was surely one of NASA's best ever discoveries. All the pressure points were relieved. Unfortunately, the cost of the mattress rivalled that of a small spaceship and so we moved on.

"I have a surprise for you", hubby said one day as he came home from shopping. Through the door came a wall of white, covered by a giant plastic bag, with a pair of masculine hands dragging it. It was a topper made of, none other than memory foam. Next best thing to a whole mattress at a fraction of the cost.

"Yayyyyyyyy", I was thrilled. We immediately tore the sheets and duvet off the bed and reassembled it with our new viscoelastic plus polyurethane slab. Making the bed became a bit more challenging, but hey, it would be worth it!

Shortly after the "installation" of our new mattress pillow-top wannabe, the discomfort and the aches came back. I would wake up during the night laying on what appeared to be a curious lump or crack. In the morning, I'd investigate to see what had happened only to discover that the smaller mattress had now developed a mind of its own and shifted dramaticallly from atop the larger frame. Oh dear!

I lived with this for quite some time, pulling and yanking the pad back into place as best I could when making the bed. I tried not to complain. I tried...I really did.

One day, while we were driving, we happened to venture into a furniture store. Coincidentally, hubby headed for the mattresses. "Let's pick one", he announced, "but I have to be able to live with it too". We plopped our bodies onto a series of beds and we both seemed to linger on one particular choice. It wasn't foam, but it was acceptable....not too hard, not too soft, not bulgy, not too pricey. Sold!

The mattress was delivered a week later and we said goodbye to the older, more painful model at long last. Once it was assembled, I became aware of a unique feature of our new bed which I clearly hadn't noticed in the store. I realized that it required "deep pocket" sheets and that this was a particularly high mattress. Although I'm only slightly shorter than I used to be, the top of it was almost at my waist. Hmmm...

My athleticism has been tested numerable times over the last few years. I am often able to take a jumping leap to make it onto the bed. When I'm particularly tired, I approach it from the side and make my over the edge by flopping onto my stomach and crawling or pulling myself the rest of the way. Sometimes, only one leg and part of my body actually make it onto the bed, however, I am so appreciative of my new mattress, that I try to keep the grunting and groaning caused by this minor inconvenience to a minimum.

As I age, I will probably require either a step stool, ladder, or one of those senior elevators mounted alongside the frame to help me with my ascent into bed. Meanwhile I think I'll go back to sleep now, drift off and dream about castles, ponies and princes.