Maybe the universe enjoys kicking a girl while she's down
So I visited the grandmother in New Hampshire this weekend. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say it was emotionally draining and caused me to consume a hefty quantity of Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream when I got home Sunday night.

So then Monday morning rolls around, and it's rainy and windy and generally miserable. I drag my ass to New Jersey anyway. Sigh. I get off the bus in front of my office building and start to cross the busy, four-lane road to get there. Suddenly, the wind whips my umbrella forward, hitting me in the head and almost knocking my glasses off. I catch them and push them back up on my face before trying to fight the wind and continue across the street. Before I even take another step, the umbrella smacks me in the head again and somehow manages to catch my glasses in exactly the right spot to snap them in half. I catch one half and end of chasing the other half down the street. I'm not sure why, as there was no way to salvage the glasses unless I taped them in the middle, classic nerd-style. Not a good start to the day.

I really like my glasses and now I have to pick out new ones all on my own and I can't really afford new glasses right now especially since my new job doesn't have vision insurance and I've been needing to get new contacts but I've been putting it off and I have to work a whole day with everything kind of fuzzy. Argh! And then at the end of the day when I got home sopping wet after trudging all over the Upper East Side in search of a tube pan (it's a long story, don't ask), the universe mocked me by delivering my tax refund check. It would have been more efficient if it had just been made out to my eye doctor. Damn you, universe, damn you. And don't think that $50 gift card I got at a press function is going to make up for this whole debacle. I'm still a bit bitter.

Sadly, I haven't just been hiding in Mexico this whole time
The lack of blogging is just due to long work days, lots of errands, a trip to DC and an upcoming trip to New Hampshire. Washington and New Hampshire are lovely this time of year, but I'd much rather be back at my secluded beach, reading a book and drinking a margarite Francisco just made me.

Contrary to popular belief, Mexico is actually spelled P-A-R-A-D-I-S-E
So after getting delayed by snow in New York long enough to just miss my connection in Chicago (even though I sprinted my heart out in a fruitless attempt to make it from K1 to H13 at O'Hare), stopping over in DFW airport, sharing a flight to Puerto Vallerta with a gaggle of annoying 18-year-old spring breakers, I arrived in Mexico, found my brother and a taxi. We drove 40 minutes away from all the airport, the annoying spring breakers and the local Wal-Mart (really, a Wal-Mart, how disappointing). We got dropped off at a tiny beach/boat dock at the end of a steep cobblestone street. We got into a boat that made me feel like I was on Survivor (which reminded me of Chrissy). It was basically an oversized rowboat with a motor on the back and a guy standing on the front of the boat holding a rope that helped pull the front of the boat up over the waves. It felt kind of like surfing or being in the rodeo. Our little resort was the second stop. They could only take us in part way to the beach, so I jumped into water up to my thighs, promptly lost both my flip flops and my brother chase after them (successfully). My luggage was spirited away and in about five minutes I had a freshly made margarita in my hand. I'd found paradise.

The resort was made up of eight open air casitas (I even got to shower outside!), and our wedding party had the whole place to ourselves. And it was amazing. The food was great. And I loved that the resort had no electricity, so after dark the casitas and paths were all lit by candles. (This did make dinner a bit of an adventure as you couldn't really tell what you were eating.) Saturday we had a henna party on the beach. Sunday the wedding was on the beach at sunset. There was no priest or rabbi or, um, I don't know what you call a Hindu religious leader. There was a traditional fire that the bride and groom walked around. They had written there own ceremony. Everyone had a speaking part, and at the end we all pronounced them man and wife. There was dinner and the best guacamole I've ever had. It was my whole second course. There was dancing, and we even got some of the guys who worked at the resort to join us. Then after the older crowd (and my brother) had all retreated to bed, there was a late night dip in the ocean. So fun. I'm rambling, I know, but it was all so personal and special. And you got to spend so much time with everyone instead of just getting to say a quick hello at the reception. It's something like what I want my wedding to be like one day (a long, long time from now).

Post-Mexico
I returned to cold, cold New York City. I went back to work. We closed our May/June issue. Woo hoo! (Look for it on stands in mid-April. You know you need a Hilary Duff poster.) I went to DC and took the train! (On the way there anyway, which totally spoiled me for the bus ride back on Sunday.) I discovered that between Senate office buildings and the Capitol, there is a really creepy, pod-like robotic subway thing. Very 2001: A Space Odyssey. And now I'm packing my bags for another trip to New Hampshire, this time to see my mom who has been visiting my grandmother and for some sort of familial Easter gathering. That's all. Good night.

F You, Winter
Really, I'm so done with this. The sudden snow storms that leave me slogging through two inches of snow to get to a bus stop only to wait for a bus that doesn't come. The not being able to feel my feet when a bus finally does arrive. The ridiculous winds that almost knock me over into large piles of slush on 42nd Street. It's March; I don't want to deal with it. In fact, I might just run away to Mexico.

Running away to Mexico
Hooray for cousins who decide to have tropical destination weddings involving beaches and small island resorts just outside of Puerto Vuerta. It's going to be quite the adventure. And warmer! Maybe I just won't come back on Monday. Sounds like a plan. Too bad I've forgotten all of my high school Spanish. That might be problematic long term.

Best E-Mail Ever
After finishing a story at work last week, the professor I interviewed for the story wrote me a note to say he was happy he could help, etc. My favorite sentence from that e-mail: "It is also good to know a famous person like you."

Best Pick-up Line Ever
So I was at a local pub (not Trinity) with my roommate last night. I was walking back to our seats after going to the restroom, and I was suddenly stopped by a large Egyptian man. The conversation went like this.

LEM: Excuse me, are you Chinese?
Me: Um, no.
LEM: Then where are you from?
Me: Illinois.
LEM: Are you a farmer?
Me: No, but my grandfather used to have a dairy farm a long time ago.
LEM: Do you milk cows?
Me: No. I'm not a farmer.

I'm not sure how much he had to drink to confuse a pasty white girl like me for a Chinese woman, but it must have been a lot. And this official bumps the men looking for a Winnebago in Doolan to the second most bizarre conversation I've ever had.