Jer predicted Tecmo's penetrating gaze and unwavering desire to cuddle
would win me over on getting another dog, but my prediction that Toby
would go apeshit prevailed. Now Jerry is convinced Tob is happiest solo.
When we weren't swimming, we were gorging on wine and my mom's insane
cooking. The only way to describe the calibre of food we had is to say
that the worst meal I had the entire week was when we went out to eat.
And this doesn't quite do the hair justice, but I'd fear
the repercussions if I failed to post SOMETHING.
It actually looks annoyingly long in this picture when
there's absolutely nothing to it in the back.
What I don't have pictures of are the trip to a carnival with our friends and the amazing fireworks we saw. Or Jerry lovingly giving me the finger from 100 feet up atop the crazy slingshot swirly ride. Or my very pregnant friend Courtney and I laughing hysterically as we commandeered a men's room because she was desperate. Or getting barbecue sauce in my eyebrows when Jerry and I went to a local biker bar rib joint. Or squeezing into a packed theater to see Batman on opening weekend. Or my face when I had my mom's peach cobbler. Or her vegetable pesto pasta. Or her bacon-topped, blue cheese and walnut-stuffed chicken. Or spending an afternoon with family on my brother Joe's boat and docking at a little waterside cafe for daiquiris and a killer fish sandwich. Or getting a pedicure with my mom and spending an entire afternoon outlet shopping for fall clothes for Little Miss. Or even half of the visitors who stopped over to say hello just because we were in town.
Sure, it wasn't a cruise or a trip to a beach or even somewhere new, but it was without a doubt rejuvenating. At the end of the week, my grandma jokingly asked if we would consider coming back.
Without hesitating, Jerry set down his fork and gave the Casa Mama resort four stars.
I think all four of us -- Me, Jer, Alli and Toby -- wish we could've stayed another week.