Nothing to See Here…

Posted By JustLinda on March 16, 2010

T-minus 3 days and counting!  First a weekend at South Beach, then our cruise!

Getting ready for a vacation is quite an ordeal at Casa Linda.  It involves lists and planning and more lists and shared Google documents and looking for things that you know you might need on vacation but haven’t seen for months.

We’re working the lists.  This weekend, we went to a tanning salon.  The theory was that if we got a very moderate base tan via a salon – maybe just a few visits of a few minutes each – we would avoid spending a miserable three days in our cruise ship stateroom slathering each other with aloe.  Oh, we will use sunblock when we’re out there in the sun, of course.  I’m not looking to achieve a tan of George Hamilton proportions.  In fact, I’m not really out there seeking a tan at all.  I do, however, want to feel the sun on my body, enjoy the tropical breeze on the beaches with cabana boys bringing us me pina coladas.  I will be in the sun.  Oh, yes.  Yes, I will.

I typically don’t burn except when my early seasonal exposure – my first time out – is somewhat intense, and in those circumstances, I burn even with the use of sunscreen.  Taking a Caribbean vacation in March, then, is potentially a recipe for disaster.  Add to that the fact that I’m married to a vampire whose white body pulls a full Lestat in the sun (think Anne Rice vampire, not Stephanie Meyer vampire!), well, we thought we’d be smart to do a little something ahead of time.

(True story – my husband is canvas color.  Once, many years ago, we were painting a room and the paint can was labeled ‘canvas’.  I took a photo of him painting, shirtless, and in the photo his body completely blended in with the wall.  That’s how come we know he is canvas.  At least according to the Sherwin Williams color spectrum.)

I’ve never done this tanning salon thing before.  Not even once.

That poor girl working behind the counter when we sauntered in didn’t know what hit her.  Me, being a descendant of my Grandma-of-the-Many-Questions, asked my own questions.  I’m sure she was thinking “Hey, lady – shut up and just go lie down in the damn booth for five minutes.”

Somehow we ended up with a bottle of essential bronzer that cost $60.00.  Snake oil with a fake coconut scent.  Hmm.

(I think I was ripped off by a 17-year-old for asking too many questions.  Somewhere, she’s posting “Booyah!” on her blog for getting one over on me.)

Then, I’m pretty sure she got back at me even more by cranking the tanning bed intensity up to “fry her lily white ass” when I did my few minutes in the booth.

As I sit here and type, all I have to say about that is OUCH.  But, anyway, we’ll hopefully avoid the burn that could have come with more intensity and at a less opportune time.

This afternoon, my husband and I met up at the bank because we had to sign an affidavit and have it notarized.  The affidavit said “Stoopid fucking idiots hacked our credit card info and charged stuff.  We’re not responsible for those charges.”  And that’s all I have to say about that.

While we were at the bank, though, we took care of some other banking needs in person.  There were these live people behind these little counter portals that they called teller windows.  The people helped customers deposit checks into their accounts and withdraw cash out.  We didn’t even need to push buttons or use a pin!  Crazy, crazy stuff, huh? You guys should have seen it.  I’m told this is how everyone did these things back in the olden days.

We needed to get enough cash out to leave some behind for the kids – so they can order pizza 8 of the 9 days we are gone, maybe.  Who knows.  They’ll probably blow it all on Chuck E Cheese tokens.  These are the chances you take when you leave your children behind with inconsistent and sub-optimal care while you go cruising the Caribbean.  They’ll live, and they can always turn their underwear inside out if they run out of clean clothes.  Plus, where child care is concerned, beggars can’t be choosers.  (Hey!  Settle down… I’m kidding.  I’m quite sure they’ll get better care with us gone than they get when we’re home.   Shhhh – don’t tell CPS.)

Also, we needed to get cash for us.  There is gambling on the ship, and though they would be GLAD to give us cash to gamble with against our credit card, they charge a 3% fee. Um, no thank you.

So we stood there at the teller window arguing about how much to get.  In order not to reveal how irresponsible we plan to be with money over this coming week, I’m going to use gross exaggeration here:

Him:  How much do you think we should get out?

Me:  I don’t know.  How much do you think?

Teller:  

Him:  I don’t know.  Maybe two gazillion.

Me:  Two gazillion?  Are you crazy?  Why so much?  How much are we leaving for pizza and Chuck E Cheese tokens?

Him:  I don’t know.  Maybe 10% of two gazillion.

Me:  So you think we should walk around with 90% of two gazillion?  What for?  Just for gambling on board?  What, are we the freakin’ Rockefellers??

Teller: 

Him:  No, not just for gambling on the ship – what about Miami?  We’ll need money in Miami.

Me:  We can use our credit card in Miami.  We don’t need cash.

Him:  But what about {gives significantly meaningful look, communicating with intent using his eyes} – you know.

Me:  What?  I know what?

Him:  MIAMI. {so emphatically}

Me:  Yes, Miami.  I know.  It’s part of the United States.  They take credit cards in Miami, doofus.

Him:  {continuing to make purposeful significant spousal eye-communications all while conveying he thinks I’m an idiot}

Teller:  

Me:  Oh, OH - MIAMI.  I get it.  Yeah, we’ll need some cash for that.  Of course.  But two gazillion?  Holy shit.  We don’t need two gazillion.

Him:  How much then?

Me:  What if we get robbed?

Him:  We could use the hotel safe.

Me:  But we’d still have it on us the whole way there.  What if we get ROBBED, like while we’re going there.  At the airport or something.

Him:  We’ll divide it up and store it in various places.  If we get robbed, we’ll pretend we only have whatever is in our pocket.  They won’t get whatever is in our shoes.  It will be fine.  We won’t get robbed.

Me:  I’ll be wearing flip-flops.  I can’t hide money in my shoes.

Teller: 

Me:  How about one gazillion?  I could live with one gazillion.  If we need more, we can use an ATM in Miami before we get on the ship.

Him:  OK, fine.

Teller:  So, it’s one gazillion then?  How do you want that?

Me:  I don’t care.  Bill, how do you want that?

Bill:  I don’t know.  Big bills, I guess.

Me:  Maybe we need some smallerish bills, for the kids – for pizza and Chuck E Cheese tokens.

Bill:  Good point.  OK – some big bills, some medium bills and a few smallerish bills.

Teller:  Sure, no problem.  {counts out two gazillion}

Bill:  Thank you.

Teller:  Can I put that that in a withdrawal envelope for you?

Me:  No thanks, we’ll just divide it up and hide it in our shoes.

Teller:  Hey!  By the way, did you two know we had these 24-hour ATMs?  You guys would probably love the convenience of that.  Think about it!

(I see right through you, teller-boy!  And now that you know we’ll be storing our gazillions in our shoes and traveling to Miami with nefarious motives, just be glad we decided to let you live.)

So – scratch two more things off on my pre-trip TO DO list.  Assuming I blog about any of the remaining items, you can expect bloggy antics around:

• Bill updating my iPod (I swear, if he erases my Concrete Blonde, I’m taking George Hamilton on vacation with me… at least he can take the sun!)
• arguing over who has to gets to raise our children if our plane goes down in a fiery crash, and more importantly, who will get rid of the stuff we never ever want anyone to ever find if anything should happen to us (Jenny!! That’s YOUR job!)
• mani-pedi (first pedicure of the season always makes me nervous…. even *I* don’t want to touch my feet!)
• changing my voice mail message (You have no idea – it takes me forever to change that stupid outgoing message telling people I’m out of the office.  Good lord, I’m a voice mail train wreck, I tell ya!)

Category: Indiscriminate Drivel, Married Life
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