Was it just last week I departed for Grand Cayman? Where did the time go? And how can I adequately encompass all that that retreat entailed and meant? And do I really have time, given that I need to complete three freelance articles, pack up an entire home, get Becca to her first day of Mother's Day Out, and somehow make time to help out my old company?
Okay, so we'll give it a quick go: Private villa at the Ritz. Needless to say, a girl could get accustomed to that lifestyle. If she were made of money and $20 drinks didn't make her throat seize up. The beach was gorgeous, the digs incredibly posh, the sunsets amazing. I saw two sea turtles while scuba diving and touched sting rays and an eel while snorkeling. Loved, loved, loved it.
The company: I knew only one of the gals on this trip (an amazing friend who kindly asked me to join her. Um, THANK YOU). The other three were strangers to me--two single, one married. I think I could get along great with all of the gals, sans one, who'll we'll get to shortly.
The neighbors: Six married men in their 40s. All fathers. They spotted us on our patio (by the private plunge pool, natch), and invited us over for a drink. I hesitated, but the consensus was it was harmless fun, right? Well, it quickly became apparent that these millionaires (most of who graciously let us know their financial status), put higher stock in their investment funds than in their marriages. And that one aforementioned gal? The tall, beautiful party girl from L.A. who bedded a Coast Guard member during our stay? Well, apparently she took it upon herself to sleep with TWO of these men...unbeknownst to my friend and me, as we'd retired early in preparation for the next day's flight.
I'm disgusted by both the single party girl and the two married men. Not that these things overshadowed my incredible trip--far from it--but they did make me so very, very thankful for the family I have. Who were waiting excitedly at the airport for my return. Pictures later, but now, I have china and crystal to pack.
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